She's Having A Baby, Or The Secret Of The Source
by tstone
Summary: From the dawn of time they came, moving silently through the centuries, leading many secret lives. Lives in many ways like the lives of mortals. Except they never know death, unless beheaded. And they never know childbirth and parenthood. Until now. FN
1. Congratulations, Kid

Amanda released a final glass-shattering wail and collapsed into Duncan's arms. The

two of them lay together, quietly regaining their breath for a moment. Then Amanda

rolled off of the dark haired Scotsman she knew so well, had experienced this so

many times before, and laid down next to him. Her dark eyes sparkled a bit

mischievously as she looked at the Highlander. Duncan noted that they do this most

of the time, anyway.

"I think you are getting me confused with Connor.," said Duncan.

"No, it's you. I know you've lost someone close to you recently. Take it from me, we

can't dwell on that stuff. Carpe Diem, Duncan! You need me around to point that out

to you."

"Well, are you cheered up yet?" she asked him expectantly.

"You were trying to cheer me up? I thought you were just bored?" Duncan retorted,

the hint of a smile on his face.

"Whenever I come around, it seems that you are deep in one of your funks, Duncan.

It's not healthy. You need someone like me around to loosen you up. Stop being so

deadly serious."

Is that a marriage proposal?", Duncan asked, smiling a little.

"No, that would be serious again," Amanda says with a shake of her head. "I'm

talking about fun! Besides, is marriage really useful for our kind? We might end up

killing each other at some point, given enough time."

Duncan chuckled at this.

"And since we can't have kids, kinda kills that reason for getting hitched. So what's

the point? I'd rather cut out the formalities and get right to the good stuff!", she

added with a wicked grin, one hand reaching under the sheet covering Duncan.

"Standing on ceremony is something you've never had patience for.", Duncan

agreed. "I don't see you having patience for motherhood either, honestly.", he

added as an afterthought. Then seeing the dark glare suddenly directed his way,

and feeling her hand stopping mid grab, realized he may have said the wrong thing.

"What do you mean?", Amanda asked. "You don't think I could be a mother?"

"Uh...", Duncan said, looking for a way to change the conversation gracefully. This

was the last thing he thought would offend Amanda. She hated kids! "I've just never

seen you as the mothering sort. You don't have the patience or the instincts. I've

seen you around kids. You just don't seem to care for them. But there's nothing

wrong with that..."

"Duncan MacLeod, if I wanted to, I could be a great mother! I can't help it if I can't

bear children!", Amanda snapped.

Duncan was really confused now. "You could always adopt..."

"I don't want to adopt!", Amanda snarled. "I don't want to have kids at all. But I

don't see where you get off telling me I couldn't be a mother!" With that, she

imperiously turned away from Duncan, and dressed.

Duncan barely got out an "Amanda..", before she slammed the door.

He stared at the closed door, wondering just what had happened?

Amanda strode down the street, her dark eyes burning. She was angry, and she

wasn't even sure why. She knew, deep down, Duncan was right. She WASN'T fond of

kids. And they didn't like her very much, either. She had originally come from a time

period and culture where women were judged by the ability to have children, and

she was SO grateful for being an Immortal and escaping that particular trap. Yet to

have Duncan point that out, after an intimate moment...

Is it that she interpreted what Duncan said as hinting she was...inadequate

somehow? That is not what he meant, but was that what she felt? That she was

somehow incomplete? Already too much introspection for herself, she strode on,

trying to find a moderately classy place open at this late hour...

When she felt something...it was like the Quickening felt at the presence of an

Immortal. But even though it felt supremely powerful, more intense than anything else

Quickening related she had ever felt before, it felt ill defined, no personality. Just

pure force. She took a step in the direction she thought it might be, and was

suddenly overwhelmed with the sense of a Quickening surge. More intense than any

she had ever felt before. Pure power. No memories or sensations, just pure power!

She felt as if she might come apart...

And then she opened her eyes. She was in what looked like a well-appointed green

house, in a very comfortable lounge chair. Sitting across from her was an elderly

woman, dressed in what looked like a white nun's habit. The woman stared at her

intently, sipping from a wine glass.

"Who are you?", Amanda asked, sitting up. "Where am I?" She was aware of a slight

buzzing sensation inside herself.

"That's more introspection than what We usually expect from you, Amanda," the

woman said in a rich speaking voice. "To answer your question, we are in your mind.

It's the easiest way for Us to manifest ourselves to you. As for Us, well, that's harder

to explain."

"Try.", Amanda said, her voice with a hard edge.

The woman chuckled, and said, "All right. Have you ever wondered why all this is,

the Immortals, the Gathering, the fighting, the Prize, and so on? Of course you

haven't, not much. You don't spend alot of time thinking about the whys and

wherefores of all this. You just do. No harm in that. In fact, it is why We picked you."

"Picked me for what? And who are you?", Amanda repeated.

"Wine?", the woman offered. "To the point. We are the entity who monitors the

Game, who reports on it's progress, moderates where necessary, makes sure the

rules are followed, ties up loose ends where we can. The Game does not have much

farther to go, you know. Couple of years, a few centuries. Doesn't really matter. Fact

is, it's mostly over."

"Who wins?", Amanda asked, taking the proffered wine. She took a sip after sniffing

it, and was very impressed by it's flavor.

"We don't know," the entity answered. "It's lots of fun to bet on, though. As I said,

We are just here to maintain the boundaries. One loose end needed tidying up, and

They have decided now is the time, and you'll be the vessel thru which it'll happen."

Amanda's eyes widened. "What do you mean?", she asked, now concerned.

"Throughout the game, there have been Immortals who, for whatever reason, have

given up their Quickening with no one to receive it. Too much over the ages. They

have ordered me to bring it together and reintroduce it to the Game. It was a pain in

the backside to go hither and thither thru space and time to gather it all up, thank

you. But now I'm done. You will be reintroducing that missing Quickening to the

world."

"How?", Amanda said, pretty certain she would not like the answer.

The mysterious woman took the wine glass away from Amanda, saying, "You

shouldn't be drinking this in your condition." She then smiled, not unkindly, and

said, "Congratulations, kid. You're going to be a mother!"


	2. The Froggy Winks

Amanda woke slowly. She stretched, yawned, and scratched her right shoulder.

Rolling over she drifted back into sleep. A few hours later she woke fully. As she

remembered the night before a wicked smile played across her lips. What an awful

dream she thought. "I'll have to make Duncan's life miserable for a few days for

inspiring that nasty little nightmare."

Amanda rose and padded to the bathroom, she dropped her short silk nightie on the

floor and stepped into the shower. The water was hot and wondrous. She was

flooded with sensations from the night before. This time her smile was gentle, well

maybe she would only make him miserable for a few hours. Such a talented man!

She lathered up her hair and glanced in the mirror. Her heart froze; she stood in the

running water and stared at the horror that sat so silently upon the dresser in her

bedroom. Amanda turned off the water but forgot to rinse the soap from her hair and

body. Cautiously, carefully she stalked the object of her nightmare. Water and soap

dripped from her naked body onto the carpet as she reached out with one trembling

finger to touch the rim of the wine glass from her dream. "It couldn't be real," she

told herself. "It was patently absurd... Immortals simply do not have children" and

really it was just a wine glass. Just a wine glass made of the finest French crystal.

Just a wine glass that she had never owned.

Dressing quickly Amanda went to the drug store on the corner. When she reached

aisle number eight, she was confronted by a new experience; here was an aisle she

had never shopped. The irony of such a thing existing in any store in the whole of

Paris was not lost on her. Walking past the feminine hygiene products, birth control

items and other things she had never used; she came to the section containing

pregnancy tests. She stood looking at them. They had such absurd names. They

were called E.P.T., Fact Plus and Accu-Clear. Truly absurd for something that might

change her entire life and the course of all immortal history. Under her breath she

said disgustedly "This is ridiculous". She spun on her heel to leave but something

stopped her.... The thought "what if?" Kept running through her mind. Her body did

feel different, softer, and warmer somehow. Hallucinations, had to be hallucinations.

"What an imagination I have," she laughed at herself and once again started to leave.

As she turned she impulsively reached out and grabbed one of each type of test. She

took them to the clerk at the counter. The woman smiled knowingly at her. Amanda

blushed for the first time in a thousand years. Quickly she dug money out of her

purse. Pushing the cash at the clerk she said curtly "keep the change". Amanda took

her bag and left the store as quickly as she could without actually running.

Back in her apartment she spread the tests before her. She commented aloud to

herself "This is stupid. Duncan is never going to let me live this down." After a

moment the thought occurred to her, why would I tell him anyhow? She stared at

the tests for a long time. Gathered them up to put in the trash and went into the

bathroom instead. "I can't believe I'm peeing on a stick." She laughed. The first test

was positive, as were the other two. She sat dumbfounded on the toilet for close to

an hour. She finally came to the realization that the damn thing was making a ring

on her butt. She stood up and pulled up her panties.

She was struggling to understand what had happened to her. She walked to the

phone as if in a trance. She dialed Duncan's number.

The phone rang once, twice, three times before his voice came on the line.

"What took you so long? Duncan I need you...," she wailed.

"Amanda?" Duncan asked. He had never heard that tone in her voice before.

"Amanda, what's wrong? Where are you?"

Amanda's voice was emotionless and frightened at the same time as she said, "I'm...

I'm in trouble, Duncan, Please come? I'm at my place. Duncan Hurry?"

Duncan paused for just a moment then said with concern in his voice. "What? Are

you ok? Is there someone..."

Amanda interrupted him with a sobbing cry " Duncan, please don't ask, just come,

NOW!!"


	3. What's Happening Here?

"I'll be right there," Duncan promised. He then hung up the phone, retrieved his

sword and put on a coat. As he headed out the door and down the street at a brisk

clip, he thought back to Amanda's plea. He's pulled Amanda out of some fixes

before, some she even asked him to. But in all the time she has ever asked for help,

or said anything else to him, he can't remember a tone of voice ever like that from

her. He wasn't even sure what to make of it. He detected some fear, yes. But a

strange detachment, too. Like...ah, he didn't know. In all his past with Amanda, and

everyone else he had known, he couldn't remember anything quite like it.

As Duncan drew closer to the building with Amanda's suite, he felt the sharp jolt of

the Quickening. Nothing like Amanda's presence, it was POWERFUl, raw, primal, but

lacking personality. It was like nothing he had felt before in his experience as an

Immortal. He couldn't feel Amanda's presence, either. He walked around the building

and looked up at one of her windows. There she was, watching for him. But the

strange sensation was blotting out everything else.

Amanda gestured furiously for him to come up, though the look on her face was

strangely blank. Ok, she wasn't being threatened, wasn't in danger by another

Immortal out for her head, he was pretty certain. So he had no idea what this could

be. Duncan quickly made his way up to her door and knocked, the sensation

hammering at him, almost painful in it's intensity...

"Duncan?", Amanda's voice seemed to whisper to him across a chasm, and he

snapped back to the present.

Amanda let him in, saying over her shoulder, "It's disorienting as hell, and it keeps

you from feeling the presence of one of us. You get used to it after a bit. I guess it's

kinda like being deaf."

"What is?", Duncan said, moving forward, reaching out to her.

Amanda held out a hand, "No, just have a seat. Please, Duncan..."

Duncan, his concerned gaze fixed on Amanda, slowly sat down on her daintily ornate

love seat. Amanda sat on the other cushion and looked at him with that strange look.

Duncan waited for her to speak.

Amanda said, with a broken chuckle, "Stop me if you've heard this one, Duncan, but

a funny thing happened to me on the way home from your place." She seemed

about to break down for a second, but quickly recovered, a bit of a wan grin on her

face as she returned her gaze to Duncan. Her dark eyes seemed to be brimming with

not yet fallen tears.

"Ah hell, Duncan, I'm going to just say it. I'm knocked up, in the family way. Get the

picture? I'm...pregnant. Ah, dammit...", she swore, wiping at the single tear that

finally began making it's way down her left cheek.

Duncan started. "What...how is that possible? I mean...that can't...", his dark eyes lit

with concern, turned inward for a second as he considered. "Was it me?"

"No, Duncan, it wasn't you.", Amanda said, shaking her head, "Although the way it

happened, I wish it was."

"What happened, Amanda?", asked Duncan.

"You know, all those questions we have about our kind, the whys and wherefores?

Why it is we exist, and do what we do? I don't understand it, really, but the powers

that be behind all this believe this doesn't have too much longer to go. And they

want to tie up some loose ends. They gave me one of the knots", she added with a

chuckle, gesturing to her abdomen.

"What loose end?", Duncan asked.

"Something about unclaimed Quickening," Amanda answered, a slight tremor in her

voice. "They want to bring it back into the game. Through me. So they've made me

a mother."

This hit Duncan like a wave. He had no idea what to make of it. If Amanda had been

about to bear his child, there would have been one clear course. Marry her. Be the

child's father. But this...

The only thing he could think of was to be there in a time of crisis. He opened her

arms to her taking her shoulders, and pulled her into a warm embrace, kissing the

top of her head. Amanda cried silently into his chest.

Eventually, she fell asleep. Duncan carried her to her bed and undressed her. Right

before he pulled the covers over her, he noticed her abdomen. It already had a slight

bulge in it. Perplexed, he reached over to touch it. An arc of pure Quickening reached

out and threw him across the room. Duncan lay stunned a second, and when he

recovered, he shook his head and looked at Amanda. She slept on. He stood up, very

carefully reached over her, pulled the covers over her prone form, kissed her

forehead, and left, locking the door behind him.

He needed to talk to someone who knew Immortal esoterica. And the two best

people he knew for this, Methos and Joe, would be at Le Blues Bar about this time.

Besides, he needed something to drink, to help digest what had happened. Yep, a

good stiff one with friends who understood weirdness...


	4. You Won't Believe This, Guys

Upon entering the Blues Bar, Duncan looked around to see if Joe was there. He didn't

need to look for Methos. He could feel the old guy sitting at the corner table under

the staircase. The shadow covered all but one hand holding a drink and the two long

legs crossed at the ankles, shod in worn out hiking boots. Despite himself Duncan

had to smile. Why was Methos drinking a drink with a little umbrella in it?

From behind him he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, Mac, what you drinkin'? As if I have to ask? You know someday you should try

something different. Look at Adam."

Duncan turned and with one raised eyebrow, looked Joe dead in the eye and snarled"

I've had enough surprises for one day".

Joe raised both hands and said "ok!". Took a good look at Mac, tilted his head and

changed McLeod's normal single to a double. Looked at Duncan again and made it a

triple.

Duncan took a long pull from the glass, sighed and ran one hand through his thick

dark hair, leaned across the bar and half whispered to Joe "Joe, I need to talk to you

and Methos. Privately. I've got an unusual problem."

From the corner a chair was pushed away from the tale with one booted foot. Methos

leaned into the light, took a sip of his umbrella drink and smiled, "Have a seat".

Duncan sank gratefully into the offered seat.

Joe grabbed a chair on the other side of the table, looked around and shrugged, "It's

been a slow night, they can close without my help, What's up?"

Duncan's face was alive with emotions but mostly he looked like a kid caught with

his hand in the cookie jar.

Methos looked at him and smirked " I don't care who she is or how sure she is, I'm

telling you the kid's not yours."

Duncan dropped his glass, spilling 12 year old Glenmorangie across the table.

The dawn sky was pale and quiet. Birds chirped and a gentle breeze blew through

the trees. Amanda lay with the side of her face nestled gently against the cold base

of the toilet. "Please, please, please just let me die". She opened her eyes, the

sudden motion sending a wave of nausea through her again. She rose to her knees,

assumed the position and dry heaved into the toilet.

She had been throwing up since two in the morning. Her stomach ached. It was tight

and hard too. That's what had woken her up. She had always slept on her stomach

but now there was a knot in her lower abdomen.It actually hurt to lay on her tummy.

Her breasts were swollen and sore. The nausea finally subsided. She climbed to her

feet, turned to the sink and brushed her teeth. She picked up and lathered her face

with her favorite Spanish soap. She immediately felt like throwing up again. " It's the

soap, I can't stand the smell of the soap. But I love this soap!" She laughed at

herself. " A Mother for less than 24 hours and already she hated it."

She wandered out into the kitchen to see what she could find to eat. She looked in

the fridge and in the pantry, came up with a few things and went to work preparing

them. she began to think as she fixed her breakfast. What was she going to need?

New clothes, naturally. Baby clothes, bottles, diapers. OH, dear god... diapers, she

did not want to think about changing dirty diapers.

Then another thought hit her " What of the birth?" Who's going to help me? Who did

she know that could be trusted? After all she was going to be completely helpless.

Methos used to be a Doctor, maybe but then again maybe not? Perhaps she'd have

Duncan call Ann Lindsay?" No hurry, she had nine months to decide. Or did she?

Things seem to be moving pretty fast. One day and she was already showing.

She surveyed the feast she had prepared for herself. Cold king crab legs with lemon

and mustard. Orange shebert. Navy bean soup with sour cream and gummy bears.

Graham crackers with toasted marshmallows, chocolate and green olives. Her

stomach heaved as she ran to the bathroom. She crouched over the pot and finally

accepted what her body had been telling her " If the tests and swelling tummy

weren't conclusive the meal sure was, there could be no doubt, she, Amanda was

with child. Damn, Damn, Damn...somehow Duncan was going to pay for this."

Duncan


	5. Unprecedented

Methos' eyes widened slightly, and Joe started, then signaled one of his waitresses to bring a cloth over to wipe up the mess and refresh Duncan's drink. He had the lady leave the bottle. He had a feeling...

"C'mon, Mac, that's the good stuff..." Joe joked, but concern shown on his face. Methos just watched Duncan, waiting for him to speak.

Duncan took the refreshed drink from Joe, looked at it, then downed it in one gulp, with a grimace. He then looked at Methos then Joe, then back again.

"Amanda's pregnant," he blurted out.

The two men stared at Duncan. Methos' brow furrowed thoughtfully, while Joe stared, then broke into a grin. He grinned even wider at the almost helpless look in Duncan's eyes. Duncan has pulled the poker face before, but this was too much.

"Get outta here," Joe said. "Don't try to kid the kidder." he shook his head and chuckled.

"I don't think he's joking, Joe," Methos said softly.

Joe looked from Duncan's distressed face to Methos' thoughtful, concerned one. "Mac..?"

"I wish I were kidding, Joe," Duncan said sincerely, taking pull from his glass. "But I'm not. I just left her place, after she told me the news."

"But how is that...we have never heard of such a thing," Joe stammered.

"Not even in legends, half remembered tales in your chronicles? How about you, Methos?"

Methos reflected for a second, "The closest thing I can remember was a cult led by an Immortal in ancient Rome. An Immortal male started a fertility cult, putting forth the idea that he had the ability to fertilize barren women. He had a whole harem of mortal beauties at his beck and call. He ran into problems when some Immortal females came to him, hoping he could give them the gift, too. And they decapitated him when he couldn't."

"We don't have that story," Joe mused.

"I know," said Methos, with a small smile.

"How did he get any credence in the first place?" Duncan asked. "We can't impregnate anyone, mortal or Immortal."

Methos said, "Normally, this is true. But you know how some of us seem to develop strange talents beyond the usual range, the longer we are around? Somehow, he had learned to harness his power, to awaken barren women. I suspect he did not actually impregnate them. He instead used his Quickening to render them naturally fertile. They went and actually got themselves pregnant later, and gave him the credit."

"But he couldn't do that for Immortal women," Duncan said.

"No, he couldn't," Methos affirmed. "They were rather furious about that, too."

Duncan related the best he could Amanda's story about her encounter, shrugging helplessly at the end.

Methos and Joe looked at him sympathetically. Joe mused, "First Methos' tale, and now you blow him out of the water with yours. Amanda had an encounter with a Ref of the Game. I definitely have never heard of anything like that."

Methos confessed he hadn't either.

"I can't stand feeling this helpless," Duncan fumed. "But I don't know what to do."

Joe said, "Mac, you're her friend. She knows she can go to you. She knows she can rely on you. She's gonna need you, buddy. Be there for her, however this goes. And we'll be here for you."

"Indeed, Duncan," Methos agreed.

Suddenly, Duncan and Methos felt the presence of a relatively young Quickening. Joe looked around to see what had gotten the attention of the Immortals he was with. There, coming thru the door, was Ritchie Ryan, all grins...which faded somewhat, seeing the expressions on the faces of his friends...

"Uh, I didn't do it..?", he said, hoping to lighten the mood....


	6. Strange Cravings

Ritchie looked from man to man at the table, spread his hands and said "What?" Joe wiped his face from brows to chin with one hand, turned and looked at Duncan. Methos leaned back in his chair, laced both hands behind his neck and cocked his head at Duncan. His face wore that, "I'm so easily entertained grin". For a split second Duncan wanted to take Methos smirking grin off of his face about three inches below his chin. Duncan opened his mouth to speak and his cell phone began to ring in his pocket.

He frowned, took it out. Looked at it and then at the guys, "It's Amanda, I'd better take this." Excusing himself from the table he took a few steps away from the others for a little privacy.

Answering the phone, his voice was tired "MacLeod".

"Duncan it's me, Amanda. Duncan, would you be a good little Boy Scout and come over here tomorrow morning? I'm going to need some things and I figure your platinum card just might cover them. Oh, and wear comfortable shoes, I'm using you as a pack mule. A woman in my condition shouldn't have to lug packages around town all day. 10 A.M., sharp. I don't want to miss any shopping time. That's it, TA TA."

Duncan stood there staring at the phone. He hadn't said a word and couldn't think of anything to say. He had to chuckle. That was Amanda, the consummate Adaptionist. Chameleons had nothing on her. Faced with being the center of the most monumental event in immortal history and how does she react? She uses it as an excuse to shop. He started to laugh again until he remembered her words. His platinum card! Smiling, he wondered if you could actually melt a credit card by using it too much?

He turned back to the table. Ritchie and the others were looking at him in anticipation. His worry and stress returned.

Amanda hung up the phone. Sat down on her couch. Opened a bottle of nail polish and carefully started to paint each toenail scarlet. After all she might not be able to reach them in a few days. She was going to have to keep Duncan close to her. She wasn't sure how well she could handle a sword once she became gravid. She'd seen pregnant women walk. They had that ever so unattractive waddle, it looked for all the world as though they were trying to smuggle soccer balls by clutching them between their thighs. Sort of a lead-with-the-tummy penguin walk. It was definitely going to be hard to fight in that state. She stopped painting, she was suddenly furious "Platinum card be dammed. That was not nearly enough... Duncan was going to suffer right along beside her." There was a part of her that knew she was being totally irrational. After all Duncan really had nothing to do with what was happening to her. But there was the other hormonal side that said, "If, I have to be miserable, then I'm taking someone down with me and Duncan is as good as any!" She returned to painting her toes and hummed lullabies that had been old when she was a girl. She caught herself and wondered at her ability to remember those old, old songs. She'd have to talk to Methods, see if he remembered any of the same ones. It was good to have friends, good not to be alone at this time. As she put the second coat on her last toe, she idly wondered if there weren't any more smores and green olives. That hadn't been half bad. Maybe she had some carrot juice to go with it.


	7. Stirring

"It's Amanda," Duncan said, seeing the questioning looks on the faces of his friends. He sat down again. "Uh...she's gearing up for this, I guess. Wants to go shopping for baby clothes, maternity clothes, that kind of thing. Frankly, she's taking to this better than I am."

"Wow. A game ref," Ritchie wondered. "What was she...it...you know, like?"

"I didn't see her," Duncan said. "And frankly, Amanda's description was a little hazy. But there it is. And there's the proof."

"So what are you going to do, Mac?" Ritchie asked, pouring a shot of the bourbon Joe had brought out for Duncan.

"Think I'm going to go home. Get some sleep. Meet Amanda tomorrow. Maybe make some more sense of this...hopefully."

As Duncan got up to leave, the Immortals felt the presence of yet another Quickening. The door of Le Blues opened to admit yet another Immortal.

"Fitz!" all three Immortals said in unison.

"Hugh Fitzcairn. Four Immortals in my bar at once. That has to be some kind of record," Joe commented.

"Hello, lads," Fitz said, his face friendly, but his manner grave. He strode over to the table and helped himself to the bottle that Ritchie had just finished with. He took a swig and looked at the assembled, who waited.

"There is something in the air," his rough voice intoned, absent of its usual jocularity. "Something is drawing Immortals to this city, like insects to a light. You lads need to watch yourselves as you go about your business," he added meaningfully, eyeing Duncan, Methos and Richie in turn.

When Duncan revealed to him what that may be, Fitz nodded, lighting up his pipe. He took a few puffs, and then pointed the stem at Duncan, saying, "Best keep that knowledge under your hat then, my friend. Oh, the others will figure it out soon enough, and Amanda will need you, need us to protect her, I'll wager. There are those among us who will do unspeakable things to try to get all that power for themselves, once they do."

He then turned to Joe, "And I imagine there are some among your set that won't care for this, either."

Joe looked at his drink sadly. "No, I imagine not. They won't find out from me, but if what you say is true, Immortals are coming in unusual numbers to Paris; they are going to ask why. And they'll get answers soon enough. Between yours and mine, this could get messy."

Duncan stood up, "Yeah. But in the meantime, I've got a baby to shop for." When Ritchie and Fitz made moves to stand with him, Duncan shook his head. "It'll be alright tonight. Just let me know if you hear anything."

Ritchie looked agitated, Methos' expression was carefully neutral, Joe and Fitz looked concerned, "Don't try to handle this all alone, MacLeod," he warned

"With what may be coming down, it would be smart to have your friends watching your back," Joe added.

"Sure. Okay. Ritchie, come back with me to my place. Fitz, try to keep an eye on Amanda tonight. Call me at any time if you see or hear of anything. Goodnight, fellas."

He walked out the door, Ritchie fast on his heels.

The three remaining men sat, Methos leaning back, Fitz puffing absently, Joe staring at his glass, lost in thought.

As Duncan and Ritchie made their way to the barge, several times, they caught the feeling of Quickening. Immortals in the area. None appeared to them, however. And in the background, they could feel the constant buzz of the new Presence, like a beacon upon their souls...


	8. Not My Best

Amanda sat on her couch, arms and legs crossed. She tapped one foot impatiently.

Just where was Duncan?

It was not like him to be late. She was already pissed. Her morning was falling apart.

She'd had a hard time finding anything to wear. She was swelling up like a water balloon. Gad she hated to look at her body like this. How did mortal women stand it? She was wearing a pair of stretch pants, ankle boots and a white tux shirt of Duncan's that he'd left there a month or two ago. Nothing else fit. She was considering calling him when she felt a buzz coming from inside her building. Well it was about time. It was also a good sign that she could feel another immortal over the baby's loud presence. She waited for the doorbell to chime before rising from the couch.

The door opened, and there was Amanda, noticeably a bit more swollen than last night. Duncan smiled. but Ritchie had a hard time not staring.

Amanda looked at Ritchie and said, "I'd really rather you not have brought guests along. "No offence, Ritchie."

Ritchie looked a bit chagrined, and said, "It's no problem! I can leave..." he turned to go, but was stopped short by Duncan's hand snagging an elbow.

Duncan looked pained "Amanda, what is going on with you is ... extraordinary. And immortals all over can feel it, maybe over the entire world. Whatever, Immortals are coming to Paris, looking for this. They will find you. Ritchie is here with me to help protect you. From what I hear and what went on last night, we may need it. So be nice."

Amanda paced back and forth in front of Duncan and Ritchie. She stopped and snapped at Duncan. "Ok, fine!" I'm just... well it's embarrassing. I thought it would be fun, shopping and all. But, Duncan I need to shop, I have nothing to wear and I look like a toad. How can I buy clothes when I don't even look like me." She ducked her head and whispered to him so that Ritchie couldn't hear. " My bras don't even fit. It's awful!"

Duncan smiled and raised one eyebrow as he looked down at her with just the hint of a leer on his face.

Looking up at him she burst into tears. Duncan was stunned; Amanda had always been emotional but never overly so. He put his arms around her awkwardly and patted her on the back.

Ritchie cleared his throat and said" I'll just go get her some water."


	9. Women and Shoes

Duncan watched Ritchie duck into Amanda's apartment, then pulled a tissue out of her purse and handed it to her. He had dealt with pregnant women a few times in his centuries, starting with his mother sometimes acting as a midwife back in Glenfinnen. He had ever been put in the position to be the primary helper in a birth on a few occasions. But this was different. This was an immortal. This was Amanda. He would have to bring an outside consultant in on this. And fortunately, he DID know a doctor who knew the secret of Immortals, and whom he could trust for her discretion. He made a note to himself to contact her at the nearest opportunity.

Duncan looked over Amanda's shoulder; she was just sniffing occasionally now. Ritchie was peeping around the corner, his face asking, and "All clear?" Duncan nodded, and Ritchie approached. With a quizzical look, he said, "I can't feel you, Duncan. Or Amanda. It's like something is drowning it out.

"It is." Duncan confirmed. He turned to Amanda, "You ready?"

Amanda nodded, and asked, "Is all the extra security really necessary?"

Duncan's face became grave, as he nodded. He smiled and said, "But we're going shopping, we'll be in public, and you are with the two of us. I don't think there will be a problem. Shall we?", he offered his arm...

Amanda picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. She took Duncan's arm and handed her keys to Ritchie. After locking the door Ritchie gave Amanda's keys back.

They walked to the elevator and rode from Amanda's penthouse to the bottom floor. As they started toward the front door Duncan asked, " Where do you want to go first?"

Amanda thought for a second and decided, "Let's go to the shoe store."

Both men groaned.

Ritchie looked at Duncan and wondered, "What is it with women and shoes?"

Amanda grinned.

Duncan just shrugged and headed up the street toward the shopping district and the new mall.


	10. Resentment

After buying seven pairs of spiked heel pumps and two pair of boots, Amanda bought a pair of sturdy, comfortable loafers. Duncan looked at them and commented, " Not exactly what I'd think of as your style". Amanda picked the ugly things out and admitted that her feet already hurt. For some reason her shoes felt to tight.

Duncan grinned; he knew that most women's feet swell during pregnancy. He watched as Amanda took off her fashionable ankle boots and replaced them with her sturdy new shoes.

Richie picked up Amanda's bags and said, "Now, where to?"

Richie's mouth opened slightly as he looked at Amanda. He just looked at her without saying a word. He just stood and looked. Amanda turned her dark eyes full on him and returned his gaze. Finally, after a moment had passed, she said, "Well?"

"...Uh... you're pregnant," he finally uttered. "You really are."

"I thought we already established this," Amanda said, somewhat tersely.

"Yeah, I know," Richie acknowledged. "But just when I thought I had accepted all the weirdness that comes with being what we are, we get thrown another dose, that, to anyone's knowledge, has NEVER happened before. Doesn't that.... freak you out a little? Either of you?" he added, with a 'please help me' look at Duncan.

Amanda looked at Richie and said, "I don't have any choice in bearing this kid, I suppose. But I don't have to keep it."

"What?!", Duncan and Richie burst forth at once...


	11. Here For You

Amanda didn't make eye contact with either man. She started to walk down the isle of shoes. She trailed her finger along the display rack.

Ritchie stood rooted to the spot on which he stood and dropped the packages he held.

Duncan took several large steps in her direction and spun her around.

He looked incredulous. His eyes were wide, his mouth half open. He stared at her and said again "What?!"

The anger in him was climbing up from the center of his being. His face was dark. He had to control himself.

Amanda took a step back and swallowed hard. In a tiny voice she said,"Well, it's my life."  
Then she stepped forward, put her fists on each hip, leaned toward Duncan and said with much more force and conviction, "I did not ask for this! I don't want it! Why should I have to raise it? We are all orphans, foundlings, why should it be any different?"

Duncan was stunned. He didn't know what to say. His only thought was, "She called the baby an IT!"

Ritchie recognized immediately what he would call Duncan's "righteous anger" building up. Amanda seemed to notice, too, as she was apparently bracing herself mentally against the storm....

Ritchie made to leave, saying, "I can browse for a bit, if you two need some privacy."

"No stay here," Duncan said firmly. "Amanda should have no problem explaining why she's going to allow a child to enter this world abandoned."

Ritchie looked troubled, a little sheepish, but remained in place. Duncan's dark eyes were angry, hard.

Amanda hardened, too. Her jaw came forward and she stepped toward Duncan.

"This is MY PROBLEM! It is MINE to deal with as I choose! I didn't ask to be an immortal, I didn't ask to be part of this game! It's MY LIFE! Not yours! Not THEIRS! MINE!"

She glared at Duncan, her jaw trembling slightly with fury.

Duncan was quiet for a moment, then said softly," In your time of need, though, loved ones have stepped forward to help you, whether you asked for it or not. And soon, someone far more vulnerable than you will need the same. I can't make the decision for you. But I can help you bear the burden. But someone else is going to need you. Please, Amanda, don't abandon this child before he... or she... has a chance. Don't DO IT!"

"And what if I do? Will you abandon me? Amanda whispered.

"It will put us all in danger. Can't you feel its power even now? There are those gathering in the city now because of it. Duncan? Do you want me to die? The powers or whatever they are gave me this child to reintroduce the lost quickenings to the game. That means they PLAN for this child to die." Amanda's voice softened and was choked with sorrow, " Duncan? Sweetie? I can't do it. I've lost so many that I loved. Rebecca, Darius and many more that you never met. I know you never liked Kenny, but I loved him. Look what he became? That was as close to Motherhood as I ever thought I'd get. What chance does an immortal child have?" She looked down then looked up into Duncan's eyes. Her's were filled with tears, "Duncan, I can't carry, raise and love this child and send it out to die, Please, don't expect me to do that!"

Duncan hung his head a bit at the mention of Kenny. That one hurt. Sure, Kenny did turn out to be a bad seed... but...

"I know all that hurts, Amanda. But someone was there for you. Rebecca stepped up in your time of need. You tried for Kenny, and maybe if he had been found a few centuries earlier...?"

Duncan paused, gathered his thoughts, and then continued, "I'm not going to abandon you, Amanda. And for some reason, if you decide to abandon this child, I would take care of him myself, for however long he needed it. And I would try to find it in my heart to forgive you. But you don't have to do that."

"None of us has ever known the woman who wrought us into the world. That's one of the mysteries of our existence. You may be the first in more ways than one. Your child could be the first to know his biological Mother's love. Do it for him, Amanda. Do it for yourself. He will need you, Amanda. Do it for him. I'll be there with you, every step of the way." Duncan pleaded.

Meanwhile, Ritchie could be heard a little ways away, reassuring a security guard who had come in response to the commotion, that all was all right...

Amanda melted in Duncan's arms. "So do you have a book titled, "How to tell a woman what she wants to hear, exactly when she needs and wants to hear it?""

Duncan chuckled and laughingly said, "I guess I could write a book and make millions, but really, I can't tell a guy how to do this stuff. It's just me, from the heart."

She sniffed and took a Kleenex out of her purse. She blew her nose and looked up at Duncan. "Ok, Mac, as long as you're in it with me, I'll stick around. Who knows we may be able to keep the little tyke alive until adulthood? I just don't know how to be a Mother. It's kind of ..." Amandas voice trailed off.

Mac raised his shoulders, let out a huge sigh and said, "Yaw I know... I never expected to be a Daddy." His face broke into a big stupid grin...

"I'm going to be a Daddy!" A look of complete joy and awe came over him. " I feel like skipping!"

Amanda laughed, " well, its not that wonderful. Though I'd pay a lot to see you skipping down the Mall." She stuck her tongue out at Duncan. He made a grab for it.

Ritchie returned. " Well, guys they want us to leave."

Duncan and Amanda burst out laughing and arm in arm they skipped out of the store.  
  
Ritchie shook his head and started to follow, then realized that he'd better gather up Amanda's packages. He hurried to catch up.


	12. They Come

The three Immortals arrived at Amanda's place and helped her stow the packages she had purchased. Amanda conversely curses and coos over the purchases. Loves some of the stuff, can't stand the circumstances she bought them under. She thanks Duncan for the purchases with a kiss, and gives Ritchie one, too. When Duncan says he has to go for now, she pouts.

"Why Duncan, if I didn't know better, I might guess this all makes you uncomfortable."

"It does, actually, but not for any reason you may think. Whatever is happening, Amanda, it's calling Immortals here. They all are going to wonder what is going on. When some of them figure it out, and they will, it could get ugly. I'm just going out to check on some things, and possibly get a specialist who may be able to help with "

Amanda rolled her eyes, "Geez, I'm knocked up, Duncan. Say it, don't dance around."

"Ok, your pregnancy. We need someone who know about this, and knows about us. I fortunately know just the person. I'm going to go check on her," Duncan made to leave.

"Her?", Amanda repeated, one eyebrow going up.

"Ah...trust me," Duncan said as he left the apartment, Ritchie close behind...

"Should we just leave?", Ritchie asked as they left the apartment. "More Immortals are going to be crawling in the streets looking for her."

"Fitz is keeping an eye on the place, and I suspect Joe and Methos are keeping tabs on things, too. She'll be alright for the time being. I don't know how long that will last, so we need to not waste time."

At some point, the white noise from Amanda ebbed enough, that they could feel each other's Quickening. And suddenly, the presence of some others.

Duncan looked at Ritchie. Ritchie looked back, shrugged, looked down the alley it seemed to be coming from, and said, "Let's check it out."

Both double checked their swords. Present. They then walked side by side down the alley, to find out whose company they now shared...


	13. What Was That?

Duncan and Ritchie carefully moved down the alley, aware of the Presences, now that they were out of the apparent radius of the new interference. Immortals were coming to town, pulled by this phenomenon. Some were no doubt a bit on the hostile side. Which explained the cautious approach of the two companions.

They found a large door, slightly ajar. Sensing this contained their subject, they put their hands on their swords and entered, backs to each other.

"Well met, MacLeod!", a harsh voice barked. The two Immortals turned to the sound and saw...

"Kalas.", Duncan breathed, his senses now on high alert. Ritchie, sensing Duncan's tenseness, began to draw his blade. Feeling Duncan touch his elbow, he stopped.

"Your young friend is a bit impetuous, MacLeod. I suppose one of the lessons you've taught him has not included prudence. You're outnumbered."

Duncan noted the two youngish, brutish looking Immortals accompanying Kalas.

"I see you are putting together a fan club," Duncan remarked. "They must be enchanted by your lovely voice."

Kalas' face darkened. "A reckoning is coming, MacLeod. I swear it. Not today, perhaps, but it is coming." The two toughs chuckled.

"Wait. I know you," Ritchie said, pointing to the haunted, slightly unhinged looking one with greasy hair and wild eyes on Kalas' right.

"Yeah. Malcolm. Or...heh...Talon, you've started calling yourself, after your accident."

Talon's wild eyes flared, then narrowed, watching as Ritchie approached.

"I remember this character. Ran into him in Dallas. Was looking for his first Quickening," Ritchie tsked mockingly. "Tried to work up the nerve to challenge by drinking, got tossed out of the bar by bouncers, then tossed in the drunk tank."

Ritchie laughed and said, "Talon, Dark Claw of Death. Bitch, please."

Talon snarled and went for his blade, as did the burly biker looking fellow on the other side of Kalas.

"Enough!", Kalas roared. His two companions desisted, Talon's eyes blazing at Ritchie. Duncan looked torn between admonishing Ritchie and laughing. His face remained carefully neutral.

"We want to know about the phenomenon," Kalas said. "We think you know what is calling us to Paris. What is it?"

Duncan looked innocent, Ritchie whistled, winking at Talon.

"Whatever would give you that idea?", Duncan asked sweetly.

"You live in this city," Kalas growled. "You know the Immortal activity here. You have at least heard something."

"Well, I'm not the only one. Go pester them," Duncan said dismissively.

"Oh, I intend to," Kalas hissed. "But first..."

Suddenly Talon snarled, not able to take any more of Ritchie's whispered tauntings. His strokes were strong, murderous, but careless. Ritchie expertly parried and dodged, intent on keeping Talon's weapon at bay.

"Your Quickening will be mine, you bastard!, Today, I claim my first!"

Talon bore in viciously. Ritchie, backing away, didn't see the loose board in his path of retreat. His heel caught on it, and he went down. Talon rushed in to take advantage...and found himself impaled on Ritchie's blade. But then, he seemed to grow even stronger, wrenching himself off, howling incoherently, coming in fast.

"Ritchie!", Duncan called out, wanting this not to end in bloodshed. Kalas watched impassively. Duncan then wondered, where was the third? He sense movement behind him, and went for his sword. Spinning around, he saw the large immortal immobile in the shadows behind him. A shiny sword emerged from it, at the large one's throat.

"Not the most sporting...", a voice familiar to Duncan chuckled. "Now, be a good boy and stay..." The blade vanished, as did the presence.

Suddenly the noise of combat stopped. Talon's now headless body toppled to the ground. Ritchie stood breathlessly, staring. Then closed his eyes to await the Event.

Talon's body glowed with a jagged aura of light, which slowly emerged from his still form. It gathered in a ball above, and Ritchie braced himself for its impact.

The light then seemed to fold on itself, and then vanished.

Everything was still. Ritchie opened his eyes and looked around. Talon was dead. And he felt nothing.

He looked over at Duncan, Kalas, and Kalas' remaining companion. All three stared back. They all then exchanged glances. It was clear NO ONE knew what had just happened.

And back at Amanda's apartment, she felt a surge from her womb, a stirring, then all was quiet...


	14. Need An Expert

There was silence for a time, then Kalas was the first to speak.

"A truce for now, MacLeod. But you'll hear from me again. I promise..." he added over his shoulder, as he and his burly companion exited rather swiftly.

"I'll count the moments," Duncan said wryly at Kalas's back. He then turned to Ritchie, who was cleaning his sword and making ready to dispose of the remains.

"Did you feel anything at all?" Duncan asked.

"Nada," Ritchie said, shaking his head. "No, wait, that's not entirely true. There was like...a moment of some sort of contact...and then it was...snatched away. No energy surge, and no pyro, either. You saw..."

"I saw," Duncan nodded. "Well, we knew they were coming. And it's probably going to get worse from here. Let's get moving. I need to get Ann here to have a look at Amanda."

"Why her?" Ritchie asked. "I mean, won't it be a bit...awkward?"

"Probably," Duncan admitted. "But she's a full fledged MD, she's my friend, and she knows about us, and can be trusted."

Ritchie nodded, "Well, let's do it."

The two Immortals went thru the grim ritual that follows a conclusive duel, then made their way to the barge.

A figure down the street made some notes in a notebook.

Meanwhile, back in the States, Dr. Anne Lindsey picked up the phone, delighted to hear from her old friend Duncan MacLeod, until he gave her the news.

"Amanda is WHAT?"


	15. Getting Into

Duncan and Ritchie escorted Anne Lindsay from the Airport out to Duncan's waiting

car. Anne was seemingly torn between smiling and scowling at Duncan.

"It's good to see you and Ritchie again, Duncan, but you've torn me from my life at a moment's notice. I have a husband and a daughter now, whom I love very much. They deserved SOME KIND of explanation. But I didn't know what to tell them. All because you couldn't explain it over a public phone?"

"You couldn't have told them the whole truth, anyway," Duncan said, a small, wry smile on his face. "We've stepped into some strange territory here, and you are  
the most qualified person, mortal or Immortal, I know of to help out."

"Really, Duncan..."

"Really. I'll tell you all I know when we get in the car. And I hope we can have you back home soon. This situation seems to be developing really fast..."

Ritchie looks at Duncan and mouthed "Husband?"

Duncan put a finger to his lips and gave Ritchie a 'keep quiet' look.

As Duncan seated Ann in the car he thought of the last time he'd seen her. He'd worked hard on the house, he'd agonized over just the right shade of creamy white to paint it. He smiled as he fondly remembered the porch and eaves that he and Methos had painted. He was glad that she'd agreed to accept the home for herself and her little girl.

He felt a quick pang of longing and grief for what he and Ann might have had. He thought of Tessa and was flooded with grief again. Quickly he closes the car door.  
Maybe he should have found someone else?

Anne looked a little older; she had a few smile lines and the beginnings of crinkles around her eyes. Could it have been that long? How old was her little girl. What did she look like?

Ann had let her hair grow. It was just past her shoulders and there were a few gray strands mixed with the dark. He knew better than this... Ann had a husband now. He had to respect that. She had asked him to leave her life in no uncertain terms.

He thought back to the battle and the quickening that she had witnesses. How  
could he blame her? It had been one of the most intense battles of his life ... he had never fought so dirty or WANTED to kill so badly.

She had been threatened... their baby had been threatened! Nothing on earth would have kept him from taking a head that awful night.

He could see how he must have looked to her, a modern woman. He had been a beast, a seeker of death, and a warrior, driven, lusting for blood. How frightening and terrible to see that side of the man she'd lain with and thought of as a gentle, caring lover. She must have been shocked when he'd smiled and swung his sword and decapitated that worthless piece of filth.

Then the quickening... he'd felt the power...he knew how it looked, how much hate and evil he's taken in from that nazi bastard. In the end he'd curled into a fetal position on the concrete and prayed for release. How could he have ever thought she'd be able to stay with him after that?

He was suddenly thankful that Tessa had never witnessed a quickening.

Duncan looked up at the night sky, blinked a couple of times, let out a deep sigh and got into the car. Turned to Ann and said as cheerfully as he could, " you look lovely... let your hair grow... most becoming."

Anne could see a bit of the turmoil of emotion lurking underneath the dark Highlander exterior of Duncan. And she guessed where some of his thoughts  
dwelled at this moment. His call had awoken those things for her too. Pleasant things, yes, but some very unpleasant things, too. She cared for Duncan, he was a good man, in all the ways a man could be. But what he was, what his life entailed because of his...nature...she couldn't be a part of his world.

The strangeness, the exotic, that she could deal with. It was intriguing to her as a scientist, and as a woman with a respectable imagination. But the violence, the  
danger, and its constant immediacy, once she had been a witness to it...no...

She had made the right decision.

So why had she agreed on this? Because something in Duncan's voice sounded to her like he was dealing with something that was simply beyond his abilities.

A man like Duncan doesn't ask for help easily, or quickly. Pride. And she knew that he understood and respected her wishes to no longer be a part of the chaos that can be the life of an Immortal. So when he said he needed help...she believed him.

Her husband was very concerned, but love that man, he let her go without arguing with her. She felt a wave of love for the kind of trust that showed.

Her little girl had been quiet, just stared at her as she'd packed. Didn't say anything. Anne had no idea if her daughter understood that she fully intended to come back. A  
wave of sadness passed through her. One day, she would need to tell that precious child the whole truth, at least as much as she understood.

But it was amazing. She'd vowed not to be a part of this mysterious world underneath what "normal" folks thought of as "real" ever again. And here she was.

Why?

Duncan needed her. Needed her!

Her help. Her skills. Her...friendship? Conflicting thoughts and feelings rose again. Despite the horror of that evening...it was impossible. Yes, feelings for Duncan were there, but they were outweighed by her feelings for the reality of immortality, and her wonderful family.

Her life was where she wanted it.

She was here to help a friend.

Speaking of...

"Ok, Duncan, time for you to explain. I agreed to travel a long way on your say-so. It's just you, Ritchie, and me in your car. The world can't hear. Now please, tell me  
what this is all about..?"


	16. Anne Gets To Work

Duncan sighed and looked at Anne, and said, "Thank you very much for coming, Anne. If I had my way, you would never have been dragged into this. I didn't want to take you away from your family, even for a little bit. But I had to. You are a physician, you know about us, and you are my friend. Because of those things, you are uniquely qualified to help out with the situation that's come up..."

"I thought Immortals couldn't get pregnant, Duncan," Anne said, one eyebrow up. I mean, you told me on the phone, but I thought that was some sort of code for what was REALLY going on. But you weren't kidding, were you?"

"No, I wasn't," Duncan affirmed.

"How?"

Duncan paused. Was the minutia of Immortal esoterica really necessary? He supposed he had to try.

"The..force that all of us carry a portion of, that makes us what we are...wait, let me start over. The fight we all fight, the Game we all play, has a referees, or several. And parts of that force that have gone unclaimed, the refs want back in the Game. And they are going to do it through Amanda."

Ann let that sink in, then asked haltingly, "Wait...you mean, this child is meant to die?"

Duncan looked over to Ritchie, who shrugged his shoulders, "We don't know. All I do know is Amanda needs some sort of professional help to get through this part. And you're all I..we...have."

Ann sighed and looked out the window at the passing city... How could the world look so normal? How could all this be going on and no one know? How strange the world really was

Being the practical woman that she has always been, she stopped her wool gathering and ruminating and flatly stated, " So, now, we go to Amanda."

Duncan made a left hand turn and glanced at her, " yes, we're almost there."

They pulled up to the building. As they were walking to the front door, Ann saw both immortals stiffen and look around. She glanced around and questioned Duncan, "Others?"

He half shrugged and half sighed, " It's hard to tell, Amanda's baby is putting out such a buzz that it's hard to feel anything over it, But I get the feeling that there are several in the immediate area. "

Bringing up the rear Ritchie commented, " It could just be Methos and Fitz...or not."

Duncan nodded and opened the door to the building for Anne.

As they exited the elevator the power hit the two immortals. They locked eyes and hurried down the hall. As they approached Amanda's door the feeling seemed to overwhelm them.

Duncan knocked on the door. Methos answered, "About time"

Fitz was sitting on the couch massaging Amanda's feet. Amanda was clearly showing now. She has all the appearances of being at least seven or even eight months pregnant. She was fussing at Fitz. Complaining that she was uncomfortable. She balanced a heavy glass bowl of grapes on her stomach and popped them into her mouth one at a time.

Anne stepped from behind Duncan, her eyes widened and she quizzically said, "Hi?" She then locked in on Amanda, and breathed, "How long has she been pregnant?"

"Maybe three days," Duncan answered.

"Three days?!?" Anne repeated, making a beeline for Amanda.

Methos gracefully stepped out of her way.

"My Lady..." Fitz began, as he made a move to remove Amanda's feet from his lap, stand and bow. But Amanda's hand immediately gripped his shirt. She growled, "You're not done, Buster. Unless Duncan's taking over..."

"Amanda, I live to serve, but I am needed in so many ways, in so many places..." he said, eyeing Anne. When he saw Duncan's warning look, he added "...but nowhere more than now, here...Ritchie, be a good lad and fetch our new guest a spot of tea...?"

Amanda looked at Anne, her expression unreadable; she turned to Duncan, one eyebrow going up. Anne didn't notice, as she took a closer look, her analytical mind taking in all the information in an attempt to make sense of it.

Fitz reseated himself and began to rub the bottom of Amanda's right foot. His hands moved to her calf and began to rub the knots out. He frowned and without thinking said, " Amanda, dear, you need to shave, getting a little prickly ". Amanda picked up the heavy bowl of grapes and bounced it off the side of Fitz's head. He went down like a sack of potatoes. Grapes rolled everywhere.

Ann gasped, " AMANDA.... you could have killed him!"

Amanda sneered and said " So what? He'd get over it and be back to annoy me. You don't understand I hurt all over; it's been centuries since I hurt! And you don't  
think I don't know that my legs look like a tarantella." She wailed, " I can't reach them!"

Anne smiled and said, "I remember".

Amanda's eyes blazed... "It's different!"

Anne grinned and said," I'm sure you feel that way, but it's really not."

Amanda jutted out her chin and defiantly stated," Yes it is, this time it's ME!"

Ann smiled gently. She remembered the mood swings and the pain of having her body stretched out of recognizable shape. She also realized that it had taken her eight months to reach the same point that Amanda had reached it just three short days. She figured that Amanda was probably right... she was in pain. Pain can make even the nicest girl mean. And Amanda had never struck Anne as one of the nicest.

Anne put on her, difficult patient, Doctor face and told Amanda to get up and come into the bedroom with her so that she could examine her.

Amanda glared at Anne through slit eyes.

Duncan watch Anne go to work, noting despite the strangeness of the situation, Anne settled into things like a professional in her element. He nodded to himself; sure he had made the correct decision to bring her into this.

He saw Ritchie shrug and head into the kitchen, and then he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Methos. Methos gave a "Come here," gesture with his head, and led Duncan into the nearby hallway.

"Duncan, just to let you know, I've been out and about in the city, and I've been seeing and hearing some things..."

"Yeah, and thanks for that," Duncan nodded, with a wry smile.

"No problem. But Kalas isn't the only one here. Immortals have been steadily gathering in Paris. There are three times as many as there were, that many days ago. And they are still coming. And the Watchers are observing this. It can only be a matter of time before the Horton faction is stirred up. This may get ugly in a hurry."

"Well, everything seems to be happening in a hurry," Duncan said. "We just have to stay on top of it."

Methos nodded, then said, "After the child is born, I think you may want Anne out of Paris right after. A mortal can easily become a pawn. Once the child is born, get her on a plane out of here. No one will come after her back home, as she knows nothing of consequence, and the point of interest will still be here."

"That's the plan," Duncan confirmed.

Amanda held out her hand to Anne, She struggled to sit up first and then with great effort and Anne's help pulled herself off of the couch. She stepped on Fitz's prone and groaning form and led the way to her bedroom.

Anne stifled a laugh and followed.

Once the door was closes, Amanda sat quietly on the end of her bed. Anne couldn't quite read her. She wasn't sure if Amanda was scared, angry or confused by what was happening.

Anne squatted if front of Amanda and looked into the immortal woman's eyes. Anne wondered just how old she really was? Before she even realized it, she had asked the question out loud.

Amanda looked puzzled, "Why, what does it matter?"

Anne shrugged and said "I guess it doesn't â I was just struck by the enormity of how long your lives are and how quickly this has all happened to you. It made me wonder about you ability to cope with all the sudden change."

Amanda looked confusedâ she started to speak then stopped and started again. "Anneâ. I'm lost in thisâ I don't know what to think or what to doâ I'm scared and confused and angry and well just everything all at once."

Anne moved from a squat to sitting cross-legged on the floor, "That's normal."

Amanda looked at Anne and whispered pensively, "Really?"

Ann laughed," Sure. All the things that you are feelingâ every woman feels them."

"Really?"

"Sure, now lets have a look at you and see if you need me here at all?" Anne reached for her black medical bag that she had carried all the way from home.

Fitz sat up, wondering where the heck that came from? Ah, the fiery Amanda...ok, the leg editorial may have been wanting in it's timing, not that a little hirsuteness is in any way a barrier to the natural sexiness of Amanda's legs...

"Ah, Ritchie, good lad," Fitz enthused when the younger Immortal arrived with the tea, "Just when you're needed. Duncan has always said you have impeccable timing..."

Fitz gulped the tea down and then said, "Amanda has a respectable cabinet of spirits, see what you can do about hunting that down..."

Ritchie muttered something about "Damn butler...", then stopped when Fitz's hand snagged him.

"Tell me, lad, where did the lovely healer and Amanda step off to?"

"Anne's checking out Amanda in her bedroom," Ritchie said.

"Then I shall properly check out Anne," Fitz said. "I shall return..."


	17. Down, Fitz!

Fitz jauntily approached the door...He reached for the doorknob.

He suddenly went down in a crashing heap of arms and legs...having been tackled by Duncan and Methos.

He looked at the two men and exclaimed, "Are you two daft? I was merely going to become somewhat better acquainted with the lovely Doctor." 

Duncan rolled onto his back. He covered his face with one hand and peaked at Fitz through parted fingers. "Daft? No! Are you suicidal?"

Fitz looked puzzled. Pushing Methos off of his legs he sat up and said, "No, why do you ask?"

Methos propped his head on one elbow, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "The good Doctor has Amanda in there, IN PRIVATE. So that she can give her a GYN exam. Now just what do you think Amanda's reaction would have been.... you know, with you barging in to hit on Anne while she is literally up in the stirrups"

Fitz's eyes narrowed in consideration... " I see, Good show lads, saved me didn't you? Well now, shall we find Ritchie and get a stiff drink to celebrate my brush with death?"

The three men found Ritchie, who had located the consumable. Shortly, it became a "Boy's Club", with the fellows sipping favorite beverages. Amanda's stock was generous and varied, so everyone found something to his liking.

"You didn't have to hit me so hard," Fitz groused. "You could have simply said 'Fitzcairn, old sot, you were about to intrude into sacred territory, stand down, there's a good lad.' Why the rugby scrum?"

"Just needed a way to get your attention quickly," Methos said with a small smile.

"After all, we know how difficult that can be when females are at the fore, Duncan added.

"And you wanted liquor in the mix, too," Ritchie said, shaking his head. "Man, you guys say I get stupid around women..."

"I merely wanted the appropriate substances on hand to toast such an occasion. Especially now that we have a professional to check out matters...so to speak," Fitz said, taking a sip.

At that moment, Anne emerged from the bedroom, looking mystified.

The four men looked at her. "Is Amanda all right?", Duncan asked, concerned.

"I suppose, for a woman who has been pregnant for all of three days, from what I can determine, at the rate she's going, she will give birth in a week, two  
tops."

All four men turn to stare at Anne.

Duncan downed his drink. Fitz whistled.

Ritchie blinked and Methos smirked.

Anne holds out her hand and Duncan hands her a glass, Methos poured some scotch into her glass. Ritchie dropped in a cube of ice. Fitz offered a coaster. All five stand for several minutes in silence. Anne sips her drink.

Amanda emerged from the bedroom. All eyes turned to her, each in their own way  
judging the situation. Each wondering what the future held. Each hoping that Amanda was in a better mood.


	18. Reality Sets In

With all this steam gathering in Paris, Duncan needed to find options.

He looked up and saw Methos gazing at him questioningly.

"Just considering what you said to me, Methos. And I think I know what to do about it."

This evening, he and Ritchie were going to Le Blues. A little powwow with Joe was called for.

Amanda walked into the room, eyeing the silent group, then headed for the comfort  
of the couch. She lowered herself carefully, nestled down into the cushion underneath her, and sighed. The others came to stand or sit near her. She absently picked grapes out from between the seat cushions. Methos took them from her hand," Here, let me help".

Duncan looked at Amanda. He saw that she visibly tired and uncomfortable. And his heart went out to her.

Methos decided to broach the suggestion of leaving the city. "Amanda, how would you like to take a trip? I think Duncan's going to be taking his barge out pretty soon,"

Amanda turned her dark eyes on Methos, "I wouldn't like it. Why?"

Methos leveled with her, "Because forces are gathering. Sooner or later, they may make a move. And we may not be able to protect you. You are a target. And there are many, who, for one reason or another, may try to harm you. They are here in Paris. An intelligent strategy would be to try to be somewhere else. I know you are angry, I know you are uncomfortable. But I also know you are intelligent..."

Amanda sighed, looked around her and said," You're right. Damn you. But where could we go that would be safe? I don't want to run and keep running. I can't do  
that. And what of after the baby is here. I won't be able to protect him or  
is it a her?" She looked at Anne, seeking an answer.

Anne gave a little shrug, "We'd need an ultra sound for that. Though I did detect something that has me concerned."

All eyes turn to Anne.

Anne considered her words carefully; she wasn't yet ready to tell what she knew. She shook her head and said, "It could be nothing but I'll need to run a few tests. What we need is a place that is safe and protected and has medical equipment. Something like a clinic."

Duncan eyed Methos and excused himself to make a call.

After a quick conversation, Duncan put down the phone, "Let's go, Ritchie. Fitz, Methos, stay here with the ladies. We'll be right back."

Ritchie and Duncan walked through the streets of Paris. Three or four times, once out of the 'white noise' effect of Amanda's child, they felt an Immortal presence. As they approached Le Blues, Duncan was sure they were being watched, though by ones whose presence he couldn't directly home in on. Mortals. Watchers.

They stepped into the bar. Joe was finishing up a set, playing a laid back set of notes on his guitar. He smiled at Duncan and Ritchie, and gestured to a table in the back...


	19. Joe's In

"I kinda thought you might be back in here again," Joe said with a wry smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Things are moving fast, Joe. And Amanda's baby is coming faster than any of us thought. "Things are moving quickly, Joe," Duncan said. "Amanda's child is coming even. And it's dangerous for them to stay in the city."

"I know. Got all kinds of buzz going on," Joe nodded. "This is probably breaking Watcher protocol, but so are Horton's people. So screw 'em. They ain't playing by the rules, neither am I. I know a place out in the Mediterranean. Let's get Amanda to your barge, and I'll get you guys out there. She'll be safe enough. Not many know about it, and apparently, it's the site of some sort of ancient temple, not sure whose. In other words, Holy Ground."

"When can you be ready to go?" Duncan asked.

"Now. I guessed this was coming and gave everyone else the night off. Let me just close up and get some stuff..."

Joe disappeared behind the bar and then returned with a small bag, and some handguns. He offered them to Duncan and Ritchie. Ritchie took one immediately, checking the action to make sure it was loaded. Duncan was more hesitant.

Joe said, "I know your kind doesn't use these much, but you'll also be dealing with MY kind. And they have no problems shooting you. In fact, they would prefer it."

Duncan sighed and took it, and checked over the weapon like an expert, then put it away.

"Let's go," he said.

The three men took to the streets, attempting to look casual, but their senses were tuned to the maximum, ready to act instantly...


	20. Gunmen

Joe's black car sped through the Paris streets. Each man's mind was wrestling with his own thoughts. Joe was full of conflict. Open warfare amongst Watchers. Not the first time it's happened. But the possibility of a firefight in Paris was riddled with hazards, all the way around. Damn it. But this thing with Amanda was such an X factor in the Immortal equation, leaving all concerned to scramble how to deal with it. Chaos takes over.

Duncan was thinking, 'Amanda didn't want to be a mother, now finds herself at the focal point of a power struggle. This just isn't her thing. She just wants to have fun, get thrills. She isn't really interested in the power games. And now, she's stuck in it, by the biggest game players of all. It's not fair. But then, isn't that the way it goes, all to often?'

Ritchie was more straightforward, 'Swords, now guns. Keep it together, Ryan. Get in, grab Amanda, and get out. Shouldn't be a problem. Joe's an experienced Watcher  
and a combat vet, Duncan's a warrior's warrior and you've got the sort of lives a cat would envy. No problem. No problem at all. Just keep it together.'

Joe parked in an alley a block from Amanda's apartment complex. He looked at the Immortals, and saw they were picking up something.

"You guys okay?" he asked as they got out of the vehicle.

"Amanda's still alive, and so is the child," Duncan said. "Just can't tell where they are."

All of a sudden, a flurry of gunshots sounded down the next street.

"I'll take a guess..." said Joe.

Everyone checked their weapons to make sure they were ready to go into battle.

Joe looked at Duncan, their eyes met and each man from long experience knew the measure of the other.

Joe nodded," I just wish I had my damn legs."

Duncan nodded in return, understanding Joe's wish for better mobility. Both men turned and looked at a decidedly nervous Ritchie. Ritchie had taken heads and fought in the streets of his childhood, but this was different. He was covering well but this would be his first running battle under enemy fire. His jitters showed to the two veterans.

Duncan turned to Joe, looking a bit forlorn. "Joe, I think I need to ask you to stay with the car. If this goes down like I think it will, we may need to leave in a hurry. We could get out of here quicker if we have someone standing by. With your background, I would ask Ritchie to do it instead..."

"Hey!" Ritchie exclaimed. Duncan cut him off with a look.

"But we may need to move quickly, and."

"You don't need to finish, Mac. I agree with you," Joe sighed. "Listen, we may be being watched here. I'm probably going to cruise around a bit, to be a moving target. I'll try to be back at this point every ten minutes from this point, ok?"

The two warriors shook hands, and then Joe shook Ritchie's and said, nodding in Duncan's direction, "Bring this old fossil back alive, okay?"

Ritchie smiled, "No problem, Joe."

"Good. Get outta here."

Duncan turned and moved down the street, close to the building. Ritchie followed behind.

The shots were still coming, but intermittent. Dueling Watcher factions? But they would be concerned about bringing out the Gendarmes. No doubt, they had been summoned, and would be here soon...

Sirens. Here already. Damn.

Voices hollering in French. Was that Fitz hollering back in strangely accented Francois?

Duncan hurried forward, Ritchie close behind. He was just about to peak around the corner, when automatic fire belched out. Men shouted at each other. More fire suddenly started barking from where Joe was. He heard the tires of Joe's car squeal as the Watcher quickly put distance between him and the gunner assaulting his position.

Duncan and Ritchie ducked between two cars and hazarded a peak at the carnage around the corner. French tactical police were shooting it out with some Watchers, apparently, and yes, he caught a glimpse of Fitz dashing down another street. And another figure in combat fatigues, no visible markings, who just got gunned down by the Watchers.

Duncan was calculating a way to get across the street and follow Fitz, when movement out of the corner of his eye got his attention. The man the Watcher had just blasted suddenly grabbed his gun with a bloody hand, and shot the Watcher who had previously gotten him. He then shot a policeman and ducked into an alley...

Methos wiped the blood off of his hand on a piece of newspaper grabbed from a trashcan in the alley. Damn but he hated to use that tactic. Nerve wracking to lie there dead. But it had been a calculated risk. Knowing that neither immortal nor watcher would risk a quickening with all the mortal police around. He got to the end of the alley it was a dead end. But then he had known that it would be. "Never go into battle unless you know the lay of the land and have at least one escape route planned," he thought with a rye smile on his lips. He reached behind the corroded drainpipe and found the rope he had hidden there several days before. Skillfully and quickly he scaled the side of the building. Once he had reached the roof, he coiled the rope for ease in reuse if needed. Going to an air vent he grasped another rope and retrieved his sniper rifle. Silently creeping to the edge of the building he looked over. Spotting Mac and Ritchie he was tempted to take a few pot shots. But now was no time for practical jokes. He'd settle on giving them cover as they gained entry to Amanda's building.

Carefully placed rifle shots rang out, and heads ducked. Duncan looked up where it sounded like they were coming from. He saw a hand make a "Get going" gesture.  
Methos.

Duncan smiled and dashed across the street, where he saw Fitz bolt. He and Ritchie prepared to enter Amanda's building, when he heard a harsh whisper, "Get your tartan clad ass over here, laddie!"

Duncan followed the voice into an alley, and saw Fitz huddling with Anne and Amanda.

"Not to sound ungrateful, but I hope you came with something a little faster than shoe leather, Duncan," Fitz said.

"We're covered, Fitz," Duncan assured him. "But he's being evasive right now. Lots of guns about."

"I know. Local constabulary. Different brands of Watchers, some Immortals quite determined to make the acquaintance of our fair Amanda, though she's in the family way..."

Shots suddenly rang out, as two tactical suited individuals dashed from an alley and leveled assault rifles at the group.

"Go, Duncan!" Ritchie shouted, shoving the older Immortal, pressing against a wall, and firing as quickly as he could. Fitz took the women and quickly retreated. Duncan fired as he pulled away, and then saw Ritchie go down.

He was not going to leave his friend. He ducked into a doorway, and headed up a flight of stairs to the floor above. He found another door, into an office over the scene. Looking out of a window, he saw Ritchie, down on his back, chest bloody. One of the individuals was covering, while the other was pulling a sword. The attacker raised his blade.  
But never got to lower it, as a big chunk of flying Scotsman came down on him. The Highlander rolled with the momentum and came up shooting, and the other went down too.

Duncan turned to Ritchie, just as his eyes popped open, Ritchie drew that sharp breath of life newly returning. Duncan wasted no time. He pulled his friend up and they took off after the retreating Fitz.

They didn't see the men behind suddenly spring back to life...


	21. Methos Rides

Methos watched through the scope as Duncan landed on Ritchie's assailants. Mac dispatched both with efficiency. He mused, " Hummm, more information on Mr. McLeod." Humming cheerfully to himself, he watched and waited to see where he should make his next move. Duncan and Ritchie followed Fitz and the two women out the other end of the alley.

Methos watched to see if the attackers had been mortal or immortal. Interesting! They stirred. As the two men stood talking, Methos lined them up in his sights. One squeeze of the trigger and they were both down again. His bullet had entered the back of the first guy's head and ripped through the forehead of the second. Still humming the thought occurred to him that he did miss an occasional cold-blooded murder or two. Besides as he had once told Duncan, "I'm good at it."

He surveyed the street below and decided that the police were getting the upper hand. Time to disappear. He slung his rifle across his back and went to the roof access door. He had taken the precaution of renting a small room in this building in order to have a safe house to retreat to. As he cautiously opened the door he heard voices and the sounds of men running up the stairs. Too late. He closed and secured the door with the heavy locks that he had installed last week. Escape plan number two coming up.

Going back to his coiled rope he repelled down the side of the building, landing silently in the alley. Methos approached what looked like a pile of discarded cardboard boxes and trash. He then removed the debris from his motorcycle. Donning the black helmet, leather jacket and gloves, he stashed the gun in the holster attached to the bike. Speeding out of the alley he headed toward Mac's barge. Fitz and he had established it as their meeting spot should they be separated.


	22. Watchers Defiant

Duncan and Ritchie caught up with Fitz and the ladies. Amanda was looking particularly uncomfortable. Anne appeared worried. Duncan looked at her questioningly, and Anne shrugged her shoulders.

"Dammit," Duncan muttered, looking around. "Where are you, Joe?"

The group could still hear sporadic gunfire, and shouts of men in combat. Duncan moved the group into a storefront doorway, to hide and to take cover. He told everyone to stay, insisting when Ritchie tried to follow him.

"But Mac." Ritchie protested.

Glare.

Duncan ran up the street and looked around the corner. And there came Joe's car. Bullet holes in several places. It pulled up to the corner. Duncan called to the group and opened the passenger door.

Joe looked ashen and weak in his seat.

"Looks like I caught another for my troubles," Joe said weakly.

"No, Dawson, you're not going out on us like this," Duncan said harshly.

He moved Joe to the back, and arranged the ladies around him. Amanda squeaked in protest at the squeeze, until she saw Joe. Her dark eyes went wide. Anne saw it, but immediately went to work, her knowing hands doing what they could. Fitz and Ritchie got in front with Duncan, who took the wheel and hit the gas.

"Joe, where did you move my barge? Joe?" Duncan asked worriedly.

"I think he's hanging on by a thread, Duncan," Fitz murmured.

Duncan's jaw clenched. Ritchie's eyes widened and he stared at Joe worriedly.

"I can save him, Duncan," Anne said, but we need to get someplace safe and stable.

"Problem is, I don't know where that place is," Duncan grumbled.

All of a sudden, a dark car pulled alongside them. Duncan immediately prepared to take measures, but the passenger looked at him, and flashed a Watcher tattoo. He mouthed, "Follow."

Duncan swung in behind the black car and tailed closely. They sped through town, running stop signs and lights as they went. Duncan worried that they might be followed. He kept a close watch on their rear view mirror. They reached the docks without incident. Joe groaned from the back seat. Ann told him to hurry. Duncan could hear the worry in her voice.

As they pulled up to the dock, Duncan and Ritchie hopped out and gently lifted Joe out of the back seat. They had started up the gangplank of the barge when a black motorcycle came racing towards them. Fitz pushed Anne behind himself and whipped a pistol from a holster under his arm. He aimed at the rider and yelled," That's fringing close enough, pipe up and let us see your eyes, or I'll be making a bloody hole in your head"

Methos turned the bike off and cautiously lifter the visor.

Fitz cursed..." Ballz, Man! Get off that contraption and help us get the bloody hell out of here."

Methos removed the rifle from the side of the bike and pushed it over the side of the pier and watched as it plummeted toward the water. Before it had hit the water he'd turned to take Amanda's hand, gently helping her up the gangplank.

Fitz assisted and protected Anne as she boarded the barge.

Once both women were on board, Methos and Fitz came back to the car and emptied everything out of it that they might need. They took Anne's bag to her. They removed the weapons that Joe had stashed in the trunk. The two Watchers in the black car ran back and forth from their car to the gangplank and unloaded several loads of medical supplies and provisions.

Methos looked at the lead Watcher, they quickly shook hands and Methos said, "Jeff, you guys had better take Joes car, dump it somewhere that they can find it. But make sure that it points in a different direction than we're going. We don't want them to know where to start looking for us ... it'll cost them time. And guys... thanks... We'll watch out for Joe. I know how to reach you if we need anything."

"Hold it," the Watcher who had led them there barked. "I want to talk to Joe." His face indicated he wasn't ready to take "No" for an answer.

Duncan stiffened, looked at him and said, "Joe's in no condition for a conversation right now, and we're in a hurry."

Methos looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it.

"This can't wait. Watcher business," The man insisted.

"I'm afraid it will have to," Duncan said, "We have to go." His dark gaze held steady on the Watcher.

The Watcher returned it unflinchingly, "I won't let you leave until this is done."

Duncan turned to his friends, "Fitz, cast off."

The Watcher stepped forward, his hand going into his jacket, and Duncan moved toward him...

"Wait!" a weakened, but determined gravelly voice said. "Wait..." Joe repeated, more quietly. He stood up weakly, and hobbled down the ramp. "This won't take long, Duncan."

He moved Duncan behind him, and stepped up to the Watcher.

"It's gotta be done, Jeff," Joe intoned gravely to the younger man. "I have no choice."

"But...the vows..." Jeff protested.

"This event is unprecedented, Jeff. Never anything like it in Immortal history. Ever! Probably will never happen again."

"But we can't interfere!" Jeff exclaimed. "It's the central tenant of our existence! If we interfere, we change the Game! We can't do that!"

"We're having to make up a new set of rules as we go along, thanks to Horton's people. Look, Watchers killing Immortals is not part of the deal. We have to stop our own if they leave the reservation. And we can't let them interfere with...whatever is happening  
here. When they leave this dock, it's out of our hands,"

He stepped forward and clasped the other Watcher's shoulder, "Thanks for your help, man."

Joe began to crumple to the ground. Duncan and Methos quickly moved forward to catch him.

While carrying Joe up the ramp, Duncan looked back at Jeff, and said, "Thank you."

Jeff's hard, worried face seemed to soften for just a second, then his face became a mask.

Duncan nodded and helped Joe onto the barge.

They made ready and cast off, headed into the waters of the Mediterranean.

The lone figure on the dock grew smaller as the barge made it's way out to sea...


	23. Considering The Known

The group, minus Duncan, Amanda, Joe and Anne, was sitting in the barge's den. This, of course, was pretty much Methos, Fitz and Ritchie. Duncan was handling the barge in the wheel room. Amanda was in one of the bedrooms, while Anne was working on Joe in another. She looked grim, but seemed confident she could pull him through.

"When you intern in an inner city emergency room, gunshot wounds become second nature," she acknowledged grimly, surgical gloves covered in gore.

"Brave old sod," Fitz mused about Joe. "Legless, mortal, yet the codger leapt into the fray yet again."

"Joe is truly a warrior, probably more than any of us could be, in his heart," Methos mused, slumped down in his chair. "Mortals who so believe in a cause, to  
fling themselves at the face of danger, despite the strong possibility of death, possess bravery that we could never match. I mean, how many times were you shot today, Fitz?"

"None! I kept to cover, like any sensible man would," Fitz snorted.

"But we can't die," Ritchie exclaimed.

"It still hurts like the devil," Fitz retorted.

"I took one today," Methos said smoothly.

"I think that bastard unloaded half a clip into my chest. I lost count at five. That's when I blacked out," Ritchie said. "And yeah, it hurt like hell. But here I am. Smilin'!"  
  
"And Joe is flat on his arse," Fitz said, downing a drink.

"I hope he makes it back off his arse," Methos mused. "He's the one who knows where this island is at."

"And who were those Immortals in the Rambo get-ups? I mean...I expected that from the Watchers. But that group of Immortals, doing that shtick, what was up with that?" Ritchie wondered.

"I'll tell you in a bit," Joe's voice croaked from the next room.

Ann shook her head at the conversation that was taking place as she worked to save Joe's life. Not meaning to tinge her voice with anger she said, "a little less chatter and a little more help, if you guys don't mind".

Fitz looked guilty.

Ritchie grimaced.

Methos shifted out of his sprawl in the chair and sat forward, " I've been a Doctor a few times in the past... What kind of help would you like?"

Anne shot him a glance that would have taken a head, bit back her anger and said, "Get over here and help my keep this blood stanched so that I can see what I'm working on."

"Right," Methos said, reaching for rubber gloves.

As Anne and Methos began to work as a well-practiced unit, Fitz and Ritchie  
decided to risk a peak and see how Amanda was fairing.

Fitz and Ritchie stood outside the threshold of the door.

Fitz gestured magnanimously, "By all means, lad, after you."

"What, me?" Ritchie asked, eyebrows raised. "You've been around a lot longer than me, you've got more experience than me in this. Right?"

"Well, in the giving end of things, as far as the ladies go, but it is one of the gifts to the immortal male we aren't nearly so involved in the receiving, thankfully. But there have been a few occasions...this is a good learning experience for you, laddie," Fitz tried.

"Look, I've been around a bit myself, Fitz. Nothing going on here I don't know about. I mean...you know...you just don't want her to hit you with anything again."

"Quite right, lad," Fitz confessed. "You worry more about your health when you get my age."

"You've got a thick skull, you'd be ok," Ritchie said with a smile.

"That's uncharitable," Fitz groused. "I see MacLeod hasn't instilled manners or respect for one's elders in you."

"He tries, but I can be a slow learner," Ritchie said absently, hazarding a peak into the room.

He looked back at Fitz, "I think she's asleep..."

"Ah, excellent. Saved from the breach yet again... care for a libation?" Fitz asked as he helped himself to another drink from Duncan's bar.

Ritchie shook his head and asked with a smile "don't you ever stop?"

Fitz, Grinned, "Oh, yes, to be sure, I usually stop when the lady in question has ...umm...uh...stopped"

Ritchie rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat and one for Mac. It was cold out and he wanted to see if Duncan needed anything.

Ritchie went up the stairs to the wheelhouse. Clouds had gathered, and the bearing of the Highlander seemed to match the gloom present outside. Ritchie offered the coat to Duncan. Duncan absently put it on, and stared ahead into the gray.

"Oh, come on, Duncan," Ritchie says, giving Duncan a pat on the shoulder. "Joe's gonna make it, we're out of Paris...we're alright. Try to smile a little bit."

Duncan smiled. A little bit.

"That's more like it. Want me to take the wheel? Joe's gonna want to talk in a bit, I'm sure. I'll just keep her going until you get back..."


	24. Resting

Duncan went down the stairs into the living area of the barge. Richie knew what he was doing. Besides, without knowing where they were going yet, all Richie had to do was keep a straight course and not hit anything.

He walked into the den, where he saw Fitz had already found his bar. Figures.

"Where's Amanda?" he asked Fitz.

The leprechaun-like English Immortal shook his curly haired head slightly, and touched the tip of an index finger to his lips. The same finger then indicated the closed door of a room.

"In dreamland, mate. The poor gell's had a hard day. Have a sit down," indicating the chair across from him.

"Oh, don't worry about Joe, the old warhorse is going to win this battle, too. Methos and the Angelic Doctor Anne are rendering aid. Hypocrates couldn't do better, my friend."

Duncan sat down, politely refusing the drink offered to him.

The two Immortals sat silently. Some time later, the door to Joe's room opened. Methos and Anne emerged. Anne looked tired as she took Methos' offered arm and allowed him to escort her to the sitting area.

"He's going to make it," Anne said after she sat down. He was hurt pretty badly, but it was mostly blood loss. Nothing vital. He just needs alot of rest.

Methos nodded. "He's too stubborn to die. Almost Immortal, it would seem. He wants to hang around this coil a little while longer. I for one am pleased."

Duncan looked at Anne, "Thank you."

Anne smiled tiredly, "You're welcome. Now, where are we going?"


	25. Carrying a Load

Duncan told Ritchie to drop anchor where they were. They were going to rest there this evening, while Joe had a chance to recover and tell them where they needed to go. No sense toodling around aimlessly, wasting fuel.

Anne went in to check on Amanda, who was now awake. She was cranky and irritable, but fine. And seemingly further along. Anne shook her head as she looked Amanda over. She had never seen anything like this. And not that she was looking to score in medical posterity; too bad she couldn't do a paper on this.

But what could she write? What little she had managed to observe of Immortals and their powers defied explanation in any conventional, or even theoretical manner. They were truly...supernatural. No way around it. So even if she could write up something, no peer would take it seriously, unless they had experienced what she had experienced.

"Remarkable," she muttered, listening into a stethoscope.

"Thank you," said Amanda.

Anne looked at her with a warm smile, "No... well, yes, you are an amazing woman, from what I've seen and what Duncan's told me."

"Oh really?" Amanda asked, "Just what has Duncan said about me?"

Anne was charmed by the girlishness in Amanda's voice when she asked that question. Several centuries in this world, and she still gets that way when a man she has interest in speaks about her. Some things perhaps never change about women.

"Duncan is kind of tight-lipped about your world, but he has listed you as one of his old friends. With caveats," Anne added.

"And those are?" Amanda asked, one eyebrow raised.

"That you can sometimes be more trouble than you're worth, but for some reason, he still lets you come around," Anne responded.

"Trouble? I prefer to think that I make things interesting. In all the ways a woman can," Amanda said with a huff.

"Hm. Well, he appreciates it, and is exasperated it at the same time," Anne replied.

"Isn't that our job, to be walking contradictions, to keep the men on their toes?" Amanda asked.

"When I was younger, maybe," Anne admitted. "But I worked thru that phase a long time ago."

"Well, when time is on your side, you have to do something to keep things interesting," Amanda mused.

Anne grunted, giving Amanda a look, "When you only have so many years, your priorities have to change, if you want your life to grow. You have to grow up."

"Grow old, you mean?"

"Mature," Anne replied. "I have a husband. I have a child. I have a career, with people who depend on me."

Amanda's eyes widened slightly, and she shook her head, "How do you do it? I would go insane, I would feel like chains were weighing me down..."

"It can be stressful, sometimes," Anne admitted. "But I have love. I have stability. I have a home, people I can depend on. Yes, we only have a limited amount of time with each other, it's true. But I know that time will count for something."

Amanda sighed, then brightened, "So how do I look, Doc?"

"Healthy, very pregnant...

...with twins..."


	26. Now THAT'S Funny!

Amanda Blinked twice and stammered "wh...Wh...WHAT?!"

Anne smiled, and pulled the covers over Amanda, "Yes, that's what I said, you're going to have twins."

Amanda yanked the blanket off and attempted to jump out of bed. She failed. Anne giggled and reached out, grabbed her hand and helped her stand.

Amanda growled,"Ok, so I looked like a turtle on it's back, laugh again and I'll have  
your head."

Anne sensing that she had the upper hand, smirked for all the world just like Methos and said, "Go ahead. Then what ya gonna do for a doctor when the little tikes arrive? Hummm? Hummm?"

Amanda seethed and grabbed the door handle. She stalked into the next room. Where Duncan, Methos and Ritchie waited expectantly.

"TWINS...... I'M HAVING FREAKING TWINS! You are sooooooooo dead, McLeod!"

Mac's face went white... "Me? What'd I do?"

Ritchie looked from one to the other, raised both hands defensively and said," I'm outta here... I'm not even touching this one. I'm going to check on Joe."

Amanda turned to look at Methos. His face looking back at her was totally expressionless.

She put her hands on her hips, "Well?"

Methos looked like he might explode. He grimaced at her shrugged and burst out in uncontrolled, hysterical laughter and slid off the couch. Landing on the floor he continued to howl.

Amanda sniffed as tears came to her eyes, "This is too much, just too much, I... can't take this. It's all just too much." She started to bawl like a two year old.

Duncan rushed to put his arms around her, pausing only to kick Methos in the rear end.

Methos slowly lapsed into a chuckle and wiped tears from his eyes, "Gods, I haven't laughed like that for three thousand years!" He covered up another snicker, then asked, "I suppose the Powers That Be didn't tip you off that this was a possibility, did they?"

"No," Amanda sniffed, "They didn't exactly hand me a program for this show."

"That's too bad," Methos said, without a hint of a smile, almost. Something just danced in his eyes, "I'd pay for front row tickets to that spectacle."

"Even better, you've become one of the roadies, one of the musicians in this pageant. Perhaps even the jester," said Fitz.

Amanda scowled at Fitz.

Methos said, "Duncan and Joe would be a knight and a captain of the guard, perhaps?"

Amanda turned the scowl back to Duncan.

Fitz added, "The faire Doctor Anne, a lady in waiting. And Amanda?"

Methos said with an absolute straight face, "Our Venus in morning, emerging from a pair of shells, womanly, motherly..."

Duncan rolled his eyes.

Amanda snarled and reached for Methos, "Bastard!"

Duncan restrained her, and she burst into a fresh set of tears.

Anne shook her head in wonder, watching the two Immortal men tease her. She thought about asking them not to tease and upset an expectant mother, but quickly realized that would be exactly the wrong thing. So she bit her lip. She saw the door to Joe's room opening.

Joe emerged, leaning on Ritchie for support.

"And comes the Captain of the guard. With the good knave Ritchie providing support," Fitz mused. Methos moved as if to help, but Joe waved him off.

"I'll be all right, just a little woozy. I just realized you people are in need of a little direction," he grunted, and then chuckled at his own play on words.

Joe made himself comfortable in the little circle of expectant Immortals and friend. He looked at them in turn, and said, "We're going to see an old friend of mine. This island is a long time archaeological research project of his. People don't go here. If they aren't driven off by the rumors it's haunted, they are kept away by Italy's claim on it as an archeological reserve. Mostly, it's rumor. The few, who have gone looking for it, haven't been able to find it. One of ours has."

Methos chuckled, "Constanza."

Joe looked at him, "You know him?"

Methos nodded, "Here and there. Under a lot of names. He's fascinated with the mysteries of the ages, and has taken upon himself to investigate...us."

Joe gaped, "You mean he's Immortal?"

That small almost-smile appeared on Methos' face, "Yep."

Joe shook his head. "Anyway, he's on this island, alone. Attempting to record it's secrets. Thing is, out of several Watcher expeditions sent it's way, he's the only one whose made it there."

"What happened to the others? Sabotage? Feuds?" Duncan asked.

"That's the wacky part," Joe said, shaking his head. "They just...never left. Somehow, each expedition got derailed. Until Constanza's."

"Legend has it this island is some kind of focal point of Immortal power. It is a place of power so potent, so...holy...it only allows those there who serve some kind of purpose. That's the legend, anyway," Methos shrugged.

"And you know where it is?" Anne asked Joe.

"I believe so. Constanza's been sending me updates and information. And this is the first time such a thing has happened."

"Maybe we're supposed to go there," Ritchie mused. "I dunno, destiny or something?"

Amanda groaned. Everyone looked at her.

"What do you think?" Duncan asked her.

Amanda struggled off the couch and made a dash for the barge's head. Sounds of regurgitation ensued through the doorway.

"I don't think she's that fond of the scenario," Fitz mused.


	27. The Island

In the distance, a bank of low hanging clouds hovered. Ritchie, at the wheel of the barge, looked back at Joe, who glanced up from a map and nodded.

As the group looked on, the bank began to take on more solid form, and as the time ticked by, the barge drew closer, an island began to separate itself from the mist.

It appeared to be a circle of rock, covered in green vegetation, except on the highest peaks, where there was just black rock reaching to the blue sky, now visible to the group on the approaching barge.

No one spoke. Joe indicated for Ritchie to begin a circle around the island. As the barge made its way, Amanda gasped and wobbled on her feet.

Duncan steadied her and said, "Hang on, Amanda, we're almost there."

Ann began checking her out, "What did you feel?" she asked.

"Ohhhhh...something's there," she groaned. "I felt like I was standing under a wide field of stars, and I was the highest point around..."

She then looked at Anne, "The baby kicked, too."

"Kicked!?", Anne exclaimed. She made to take Amanda below, but Amanda refused. She wanted to see where they were going and what they were getting into.

Ritchie winced a bit, then looked at the other Immortals around. They were starting, too. Amada grunted again, "I think they're playing drum solos in my tummy," she groaned.

Joe looked at the Immortals, "What's going on?"

Fitz murmured, "It's like we're feeling the Daddy of the tykes faire Amanda is carrying."

Methos nodded in agreement, starring intently at the island.

Duncan turned to Joe, "Whatever Constanza is studying, and it's tied to whatever is happening to Amanda somehow."

A few moments later, an opening appeared in the circle of rock, wall-like in it's structure. An archway. Both the archway and the rock wall, looked...purposeful... intentional...


	28. Expecting Us?

The barge passed through the archway in the rock wall encircling the island. The group now saw on the other side a calm lagoon. It's boundaries were marked by the rock wall seaward, it's gray barrier reaching into the sky. The tops of the wall were marked by spiky protrusions that alternately appeared as towers and teeth. Protective...and threatening.

The island appeared small, and didn't have that much in the way of vegetation. It was mostly solemn gray rock, gathered in piles here and there. Towards the center of the island, the gathered Immortals and company could see that the rock took on more organization, and began to appear as columns, stellae and other formations more intentional, purposeful. In the center of the middle mass, mass an interesting choice of word, since it did appear Cathedral or temple-like, a huge crystal gathered the incoming sunlight and focused it into the temple apparently.

Outside, it had begun to rain. That is, the clouds surrounding the island at a distance had begun a drumbeat downpour. But above the island, above the temple, the now setting sun continued to shine.

There was a small dock on the beach, with a small ocean capable yacht parked next to it. The dock seemed to be stone that had...grown to accommodate the boat.

And looking at it now, there seemed to be a place for the barge that wasn't there before.

Duncan looked at Joe, then Methos. Methos shrugged his shoulders, while Joe sighed, and inclined his head, as if to say, "Hey, we came all this way, but it's your boat."

Duncan looked at Ritchie, who looked at the Highlander expectantly.

"Take us in, Ritchie. Carefully?" Duncan said, trying not to let his concern show.

Amanda moaned a bit behind them.

Ritchie looked at her, then back at Duncan, and pursed his lips. "Parallel parking, ocean style...no problem."

The barge began approaching the stone dock. Crystal formations on stone columns began shining, lamp like.

A welcoming beacon?


	29. Constanza

Duncan turned to Fitz and said, "Why don't you tie us up? I'll drop the anchor."

Fitz winked at Anne, who pretended not to see it, then went to help. After a pause, the group heard a "Hm. Well, this is bloody interesting."

Duncan poked his head out of the wheelhouse, "What is it..." then he saw. Fitz was standing on the dock, looking at the barge. Stone protrusions had extended themselves from the dock and were now holding the barge in place. Gently, but firmly.

"I think that the powers that be are quite insistent on us staying awhile," Fitz mused.

Methos stepped out of the wheelhouse too, escorting Anne and Amanda. He looked around curiously at the stone extensions. Anne saw them and her eyes went wide.

"Amazing...," she breathed. She may have stepped closer to them to check them out, but Amanda sighed.

"Either she needs to stay on the boat, or we need to get her to the shelter up there," she said, pointing to the "temple". "Personally, I say boat."

Ritchie was now looking at the temple, and the thump of Joe's cane could be heard coming up behind. Ritchie whistled at the site of the temple, then asked, "Who's that?"

Everyone looked to where Ritchie indicated. Joe and Methos both said at the same time, "Constanza."

A man with brown hair, sprinkled with gray, tied in a ponytail, regarded them from the end of the dock. He was dressed simply, in a white button down shirt and khaki shorts. Barefoot, his toes wiggled thoughtfully in the sand. His gray eyes touched on each one of them in turn. He nodded at Methos and Joe, regarded the rest, until he lit on Amanda.

He smiled pleasantly and said, "Welcome, Amanda. We've been expecting you..."


	30. What Are You?

"We?" Duncan said, eyeing Constanza warily.

"Oh, yes," Constanza said, his rich, smooth voice singsonged in a slight accent none could really place. He walked over towards Amanda.

Duncan stepped in his way, Ritchie and Fitz on either side.

"Gentlemen, I mean her no harm," Constanza said in a smooth voice, looking at each in turn. "On the contrary, I've been observing her for a long time, and helped insure she could arrive here. If I hadn't, my superiors would have been put out."

He then made a gesture, and the three Immortal warriors found themselves stepping aside despite themselves. They looked at each other in bewilderment.

Anne looked disconcerted at Constanza's approach, but then, he smiled at her gently. She held her ground. He then looked into Amanda's nervous eyes, and reached out to touch her abdomen. Amanda gasped, then stared at the man in front of her. The tremors she was experiencing faded. A sense of peace spread over her.

"There. She'll hold out until the time's right,"

"Jesus, Constanza, just what the hell is going on here? Your superiors? The Council isn't involved in this!" Joe exclaimed.

"No, they aren't," Constanza confirmed. "This has nothing to do with them. And neither do I, not really."

"I can feel the rest of us," Duncan said. "The White Noise Amanda's children has been putting out is gone."

"No, it's still there," Methos said. "It's just been pushed to the background."

Ritchie stared at Constanza, "You feel weird, man." He looked at Methos. "I thought you said he was an Immortal."

"I did," Methos said. "But it's been centuries since I met him last. I forgot what it was like. It's like..."

"It's like you're standing under the stars, and you feel them looking back," Amanda murmured.

"Unusually lyrical of you, lady Amanda," Fitz quipped.

Amanda gave him a dirty look.

"Just what are you?" Duncan asked. "You aren't an Immortal, are you?"

"No...and yes. I'll explain as much as I can later," Constanza said. "Right now, we need to get Amanda to the place she must be," he nodded his head to the temple like structure.

"Waitaminute," Anne said, "All my gear is on the boat, beds are here..."

"I have a nice house near the temple you all can stay in while we are here," Constanza said. "But Amanda needs to be in the temple when the children arrive. She'll be quite alright. Please, come..."


	31. Reality

"Hold on," Duncan said. Methos, Joe, Duncan and Fitz alternately started, shook their heads and rolled their eyes, depending. The MacLeod stubbornness had kicked in.

"We've come a long way," Duncan said. "We, forget about us, AMANDA, has been through a lot. She's about to have babies. Children. She's helpless..."

"Duncan..." Amanda's don't-you-start-with-the-helpless-woman-crap voice growled.

Duncan ignored her. "We came out here hoping for some answers as to what's going on, what Amanda has been dragged into. And before we go up to this temple, I think you owe us a few."

Constanza looked squarely at Duncan, his gray eyes no longer misty, now appearing as the darkening clouds heralding a storm.

"Duncan, you really have no idea what's happening here," he said softly, but not without empathy.

Duncan started that this man knew his name. "How..?"

"I know all your names. I know infinitely about all of you. I can read you like a book. I'm not bragging about it. It's just true. The very essences, forces, that make you what you are, I'm hooked into it. If we, the Quickening, were a computer, you could consider me a monitor. It's how I know who you all are. Well, the Immortals among you, anyway. I'm instantly aware of everything concerning all Immortals everywhere in the world."

"How?" Duncan asked again.

Constanza breathed, then looked squarely at Duncan. The gray eyes seemed to fill Duncan's vision, and he fell into them...


	32. Nature of the Game

Duncan's senses were overwhelmed. POWER! POWER! Infinite, uncontrollable power tossed him to and fro. He couldn't possibly cope with such power!

"Ah, but you could, Duncan MacLeod. If you are the one, you could," said Constanza's voice, from somewhere distant.

"What is it?" Duncan asked. He thought he was screaming, but his voice was lost in the cosmic torrent before him.

"This energy, this is composed of pure reality, no, pure possibility. It, combined with will, becomes reality. In the Game, it manifests itself in various forms you call the Quickening. One of you, in the end, will inherit all this power. It's important the last one remaining get it all, and be worthy."

The rage of incoherent energy seemed to dissipate somewhat, and Duncan began seeing points of light, no two the same, flitting about. Every now and then, one would flare brightly, then vanish. Another nearby would flare, too, then dim, but be just a bit brighter, afterwards.

"Is that..?" Duncan asked.

"Yes," said Constanza's voice. "That is the energy of possibilities changing hands as these contests are decided. But not right now. The Game is suspended for the time being. But soon, it will start up again, with the Quickening fully restored. It's all ending, Duncan. They have forseen it."

"If it's that important, this force and who ends up with it, how can you stand to sit back and let it happen? What if someone unworthy, someone evil, ends up with it?" Duncan asked?

"First off, I don't determine anything," Constanza gently rebuked. "I'm not a god. I just exist to monitor the Game. My existence ends when it does. Second, whoever ends up with the Quickening will play their part on this stage. Whoever ends up with it will be the one needed at the time. For whatever reason."

"For what reason?" Duncan asked.

"I don't know," said Constanza. "I don't suppose I will ever know."

"Doesn't that make you sad...angry...something?"

"No. Should it?"

Duncan then noticed one dot, glowing warmly. With it, two smaller ones glowed in rhythm with the larger one.

"Is that?"

"Yes, it is. It's almost time."

And Duncan was standing before the group. And they were next to the temple.

"Duncan, what happened? Where did you go?" Joe asked, stepping forward.

"He's fine. I was just filling in some of his blanks," Constanza said. "I don't think I settled any of his worries, but he knows a little more."

"And just what do you know?" Joe asked.

"He knows everything," Duncan said softly.

"Hardly," Constanza chuckled.

"You know about all Immortals, from the dawn of time to now," Duncan said.

"Well yes, this is true," Constanza admitted.

"Wha...why would you need to pretend to be a Watcher, if that's the case?" Joe asked. "What's with all the spying?"

"You wound me, Joe. I'm no spy. I do what you do. I watch Immortals. Yes, I do have resources you don't. But I don't know everything. The records of the Watchers help me fill in the gaps. I'm most appreciative, by the way. Yes, very," he said with a smile.

He then turned to Amanda, "It's time."

She seemed to drift forward, then stopped after taking is offered hand, "Can I..?"

"Yes, you may," he answered. "Duncan, she wants you to come in and be present. Miss..?" he said, staring at Anne.

"Dr. Anne Lindsay," she answered, somewhat bewildered.

"Of course. Please come with us," Constanza said. He then led Amanda into the unearthly structure.

Duncan looked at his remaining companions.

Joe pursed his lips, brow furrowed. Ritchie shuffled from one foot to another, sighing. Fitz looked on thoughtfully, fumbling for his pipe, then thinking the better of it. Methos' expression was neutral, looking intently into the temple.

He then said, "Amanda needs you, Duncan."

"Yeah," Duncan said. He then nodded, then led Anne into the temple.

Joe and Methos looked at each other.

Both of them began to speak, then paused. Methos gestured towards Joe, "Age before beauty."

"Yeah, funny. Methos, did you have ANY idea? Any at all about Constanza being...what he is?"

"Well, considering I STILL don't know what he is, really, I'd have to say no," Methos

said.

"What IS he?" Joe asked. He turned to Ritchie and said, "You mentioned he 'felt' funny. What do you mean?"

"It's weird," Ritchie answered. It's like...like, instead of sending out stuff, like most Immortals, it's like he's...picking it up. Like he's a big Immortal antenna, or something."

"He listens to Immortals and their tale of woe through the centuries," Fitz mused.

"And he apparently works for Them," Joe added. "We just thought he was a gifted, eccentric researcher."

"I thought he was just another Immortal. I kept running into him every now and then," Methos said. "He never seemed to age. But I never heard of him...doing anything."

"No battles, duels?" Joe said.

"No. Because he's not an Immortal. At least not like we are. He doesn't play the Game," Methos thought out loud. "He...watches it. So, a natural for associating with you," he said, looking a Joe meaningfully.

Fitz stared at the Temple, "A cold, barren place to bring a couple of wee ones into the world..."

Lightning flashed in the distant storm clouds. Above, the evening stars made themselves known, one point of light at a time.


	33. They Come

Duncan made his way cautiously into the temple structure. He didn't really believe there was anything immediately threatening about the situation, but it was so alien, so strange, he couldn't help but be edgy. The fact that he had very little control over the situation didn't help matters, either. But there was nothing he could do about it.

Soldier on, be there for Amanda. That's all he could do.

Well, he could do that. No problem.

Duncan entered the chamber. It seemed bigger on the inside than it did outside, so Duncan reasoned that some of it must be underground. Cold gray stone dominated, and furnishings were few. Discreet facilities for bathing and cleaning up were located around a corner. A stone slab in the middle, right under the crystal extending downward from the ceiling. Fluctuations of energy seemed to be coruscating in the crystal, lighting up the room in waves of electric blue. Otherwise, a soft yellow-white glow, source unknown, filled the room.

And so did Amanda's indignant objections. Her reverie since arriving here had apparently been broken.

"NAKED?!? ON THAT?!? ARE YOU SHITTING ME?!?"

Duncan started when he heard Amanda shriek, "What's this, da ye not know better than to upset a woman in her delicate condition?"

Costanza fairly laughed, "Woman? Delicate? McLeod, you are a Boy Scout... I thought the Watcher files had to be exaggerating... but really... She's about as delicate as an ax."

Amanda glared at him and said, "I'm as lethal as one, too... so watch it, Bub. I am not lying naked for the entire world to see on a stone slab.... Hello... cold!!!"

Duncan's lower jaw jutted out, his brown eyes blazed. He stepped forward,  
only to find Anne stranding between himself and Costanza. "Just what do you  
think your doing. Hummmm?"

"I was helping," he said with a softening of his body language and face.

"We'll that's nice but let me handle some of this. You know, the Doctor?" Ann  
smiled at Duncan.

Costanza looked at her and shrugged. "We don't really need you, Dr. Lindsay, we've  
everything needed for the birth. Even if she dies in labor she'll be back, so there's no real danger."

The women glared at him, Anne's mouth dropped open. She could not believe her ears!

"You jerk, have you no compassion, Listen here, I've given birth. Its s not fun, it hurts like hell. And I've seen women die in labor. It's not just an inconvenience. It's excruciating. And what of the babes? They could die too. Then what of your grand mystical plan? So get this and get it straight. I'm in charge. Amanda needs medical attention and she's getting it. You don't think it's necessary. We'll see what happens when Duncan, Methos and Ritchie get through cutting you into shark bait. Now get out there get me some blankets, some soap and some hot water. A few pillows  
would help too.

Costanza stood in one spot and stared at the dark eyed woman.

She stepped toe-to-toe with him and yelled, "MOVE, NOW!!!!"

He moved.

Under her breath Amanda hissed, "Jerk".

Costanza turned to Duncan and said, "Go get what she asks for."

Duncan suddenly vanished.

Amanda gasped and Anne started.

"Madam, I'll admit I have no experience in this. But I do know what's coming. And I can tell you, all this will be useless."

He paused and then said, "But I'm allowing it anyway. Yes, allowing it. Just as I can do this..."

He gestured and Duncan reappeared with the items Anne had demanded.

"...I can do this," and Amanda's pain vanished.

"No, it's not gone. It's there. And as the Quickening builds, I'll no longer be able to protect you. I know what's coming. You will survive, and so will your children. But all this..."

He gestured to Amanda's garments and the supplies Duncan had brought.  
"...Is pointless. But to show I'm not completely lacking in compassion, do what you feel you must. You have an hour, maybe less. I'll return when the time comes."

He vanished.

Duncan looked somewhat sheepish. "Well, here's the stuff you wanted, Doctor," he said, attempting a warm smile.

Ann propped the pillows in place on the stone slab and covered them with a blanket. She had Amanda get undressed and had her sit on the slab with the pillows supporting her back. "How's that?"  
Amanda nodded, "Fine".

Anne covered her with another blanket.

While washing her hands she asked Amanda... "Any more pains?"

Amanda said, "Well sort of, it's kind of like a vague shadow of the pains. I know they are there but they don't really hurt. It's a strange feeling.

Anne returned to the slab and examined Amanda," Yes that's how it feels after an epidural. You know it's happening but you really can't feel it."

Duncan tried to look anywhere but under the blanket. Silly, he thought, how many times have I bedded with Amanda... I know her body intimately... but somehow this is different ... more private."

Anne... all business now, told Amanda, "Costanza was right you're about an hour from delivery.... You're at 10 and fully effaced. You're ready to rock and roll!!"

Amanda looked at Anne..." I guess I should have read some books.. But I really don't know what to expect."

Anne took a deep breath, "Well I can tell you as a Doctor and as a Woman what to expect. But as an immortal in this situation I have no ideal what will happen."

Amanda reclined against the pillows," Ok, tell me what you can. Duncan can you come hold my hand?"

Duncan rushed to her side and took her hand. He kissed it and brushed dark strands from her eyes. "Your lovely, did you know that?"

Amanda and Anne both looked at him. He blushed.

Amanda squeezed his hand, "Thank you... a woman never gets tired of hearing that.... But right now I have a hard time believing it."

Ann smiled and said" No, he's right ... you're radiant.... All new Mothers are."

"What to expect... Your pains will get longer and deeper. It may feel like you are tearing apart inside or even like you are on fire. Both are normal. Not fun but normal. You may get lower back pain... That's the worst. You'll fief like your back is being crushed at the same time that someone is trying to rip your spine out. If that happens the best we can do for you is to massage the area and give you some demurral. I don't know how long it will be effective on you?"

Amanda swallowed," Sounds like fun! Duncan can I get some water please... all of a sudden my mouth is dry.

Duncan looked questioningly at Anne.

Ann shook her hear and said," No, you can have some ice chips to suck on but no liquids".

Amanda whined "But I'm thirsty... why not?"

Doctor Anne took over and said, "Because when the pain hits full force you may vomit. You can aspirate it if you have a contraction at the same time. This can cause you to choke to death. You can also crack ribs between the contraction and the expelling of vomit. Besides I like these shoes and don't want them splattered."

Duncan looked like he was weak in the knees, "I think I need to sit down".

Anne looked at him, "You've helped in the past with births. I know you have. Why are you squeamish now".

Duncan hung his head and as he looked up at Anne his voice was barely above a whisper, "It was never someone I loved before."

Amanda smiled and then screamed..........It was the high-pitched soprano scream of pure pain.

Anne looked under the blanket and then up to the ceiling. She noted absently that the crystal overhead had started to glow. "Get ready, here we go!!!"

The contraction ended.

Amanda collapsed back on the pillows sobbing. "Oh, my god... that's like being on the rack with hot pokers... How do women do this?"

Anne... Took Amanda's face in her hands... "Ok, Amanda this is it. You will have to start pushing now. The work is starting. You can't scream like that. If you are screaming you can't push. The babies need you to push. Ok?"

Amanda brushed Anne's hands away... "Yes, yes... I understand. Then her stomach tightened and the pains hit again. She took a deep breath to scream. Instead she clapped both hands over her own mouth. Scrunched her eyes closed and tears of pain rolled down her cheeks. But she didn't scream again."

Contractions rolled in one after the other in ever increasing waves, each more intense and longer than the last. The crystal above Amanda pulsed with light in unison with the timing and intensity of each contraction.

Amanda, cried, she prayed, she cursed, she ranted ... she called for her mother, she begged for Rebecca...........

Outside, the lightning grew more intense. The men outside, mortal and Immortal, looked at the elemental display. It was growing more intense.

"Fellas..." Ritchie said, "Is it me, or does the lighting seem to be...reaching out of the clouds?"

"Astounding," Fitz muttered.

Indeed, it was. Tendrils of energy gathered, entwining about each other. Becoming one. And from the circle of clouds, the reached out like fingers to touch the crystal at the center of the Temple...

"Joe, GET DOWN!" Methos shouted, leaping to shield his friend, pushed him away from the energy leaping toward them.

The lines of force stabled out and struck the crystal. It exploded in light and energy.

Inside the temple, Anne dabbed at the sweat on Amanda's brow. Duncan stood, looking worried and helpless. He then noticed the light in the room getting brighter and more intense. He looked up. The Crystal...

Constanza was next to them. He looked at Anne, "You must go. I'll bring you back when this is over. You may stay, Duncan MacLeod."

Anne opened her mouth to protest, but vanished before a sound escaped.

Amanda turned to bark objections at Constanza over her agony, but he was gone. As was the room she was in.

She was in a tavern in an English village, sipping an ale. And sitting across from her, looking at her expectantly, was Rebecca Horn.

"Rebecca..." she breathed. Then she lunged around the table to hug her tightly.

She couldn't stop crying. Rebecca hugged Amanda back, but she was clearly startled at the state of her friend and student. Amanda was clearly in distress, so Rebecca just returned the hug and let Amanda carry on. When Amanda's sobbing began to quiet down, Rebecca gently sat her back in her chair, after turning away some curious stares with an angry glare.

She then turned a pleasant smile and concerned gaze upon Amanda and said, "Amanda, I've never seen you like this before. You...devil may care Amanda...crying. No man, no thing has ever put you in such a state. What could it be?"

Her curiosity warred with her concern, but both got knocked aside by shock at Amanda's utterance.

"I'm having a baby, Rebecca."

Stare.

Rebecca Horne was not known for being reticent. But here, she found herself with no comeback. None. She just took stock. Amanda. With child. Having said child. In present tense, no less.

She looked over Amanda. Good shape, lovely. And decidedly, not pregnant. Ah, she knew what was up.

"Oh, Amanda, I AM the one who told you the truth about us and children. It is one of the blessings, or curses, our kind carries. Don't be silly. And I'm looking at you, no child.

I know what this is. You and that handsome Scot we ran into some time back, you and he are planning on eloping?"

Amanda's dark brown eyes, filled with tears, stared at Rebecca. They threatened to overflow again. Her lower jaw trembled.

"I don't know how any of this is possible, Rebecca. But I AM pregnant. And...damn...I don't know how to say this, but you're dead..."

Stare.

"Dead."

"YES. I don't know how I'm talking to you now, but you died. An Immortal named Luther took your Quickening."

Rebecca's face darkened at the name. She looked at Amanda's face squarely again. The eyes still glistened, and the lovely face was filled with sadness. But it held one thing that was rarely seen in Amanda's face. The utter conviction of truth.

She then sighed.

"I'm dead and talking to you. You're in front of me, doing something impossible for our kind...and you are absolutely convince you are telling me the truth."

"Because I AM, Rebecca! You think I WANT to be pregnant? YOU THINK I WANTED TO LOSE YOU?"

More stares from the other patrons. The glares from both women deflected them.

"What is happening, Amanda?"

"Oh, I don't know Rebecca. Something about the Gods of the Game, lost Quickening, some crap like that. I don't understand it. I am having kids. Twins. And I'm  
here with you."

Rebecca thought for a moment.

"Let's go for a walk."

The two walked along a gentle woods path outside the town. Amanda had gotten hold of herself, but was quiet. Rebecca had tried probing Amada for details  
about her assertions, but she insisted she had no details. Rebecca Horne was dead. Luther had killed her. Amanda was now being used as a conduit to return  
lost Quickening to the world. And somehow...they were together...here...wherever here was.

And as she thought about it, she got glimpses. A handsome, hard black man, a flashing sword...

Yet somehow...she had some more time with Amanda, the closest she had ever had to a daughter. And most assuredly, a beloved friend.

"Amanda..."

The two stopped and faced each other.

"I don't know what's happening here. But...you're alive. And...all maudlin now...you still remember me..."

"How could I forget you?"

"True. Who can? But we have time now. So how about  
this Scot? Is he the father?"

"Duncan? No. This is kinda New Testament. But Duncan  
was right there, ready to step up into the role."

"Ah, a good man, then."

Pause.

"He's an insufferable boy scout, stubborn,  
moralistic...yeah, he's the best."

"Is he there now? Where the babies are coming?"

"Yes, he is."

Rebecca walked along in silence for some time. She turned to Amanda and said, "I don't understand what you've just told me, Amanda."

"I don't either, Rebecca," Amanda said meaningfully.

"I don't understand what's going on here, either," Rebecca added, "But if I'm dead, apparently we've been given some more time together, before you actually  
join me...here. Don't question it. Remember, too many questions are bad; slow you down, and inhibit your ability to enjoy the moment. And usually, the moment  
is all we know we have. If you remember nothing else from me, remember that. And remember this...when this ends, he'll be there. And I'll be there, too. You are loved, Amanda. Don't forget that."

Amanda hugged Rebecca, weeping openly again...

...and she was back on the stone slab, at the center of a storm.

Amanda had no conscious thought, no awareness. Every ounce of her being was now overwhelmed by the incoming storm. She was now the center and knew nothing else.

Duncan saw Amada go rigid, her pale, lithe body taught with the energy flooding into her...into the children...

He glanced over at Constanza, who stood untouched. The fury seemed to steer around him. But the rest of the room was bathed in it. And he was right. All the items Duncan had brought, Amanda's clothes, shredded by the fury.

And then, a tendril reached out for him. Duncan went stiff...and Darius stood before him. He smiled and said, "Duncan, in your pursuit to make life in the world better, don't forget your own life, too. Ultimately, it's one of the few things we get to keep when this life is over. You are a warrior, but you are so much more. Don't neglect the more, Duncan."

Outside, the other Immortals saw things too, as the fury overwhelmed them.

Methos shielded Joe against the storm, and was transfixed. He saw the Old Man rigid above him. Methos' jaw worked stiffly, "Kronos..."

And before him, his old riding comrade from a savage world, said, "In the end, you still proved the ultimate survivor. It was good to see you acknowledge your true self in the end...brother."

Fitz smiled lazily in the Quickening haze, as the succession of Immortal ladies he has seen in his time parade before him, "Fitz...Fitz..."

Then an anguished voice wailed in the background, "I'm sorry, Fitz. I didn't listen...I didn't..."

Fitz whispered, "Danny..?"

"Mikey?", Ritchie breathed, "Is that you?"

"Hey Ritchie," said Mikey, sounding and looking much more complete, more so than he ever was in this life. "Thanks for being a pal. I never got a chance to tell  
you before."

Joe and Anne suddenly SAW the Quickening. SAW their Immortal friends. Methos, an ancient, mysterious figure, cloaked in shadow. Darkness, with a light at the center. Duncan, an armored knight with self inflicted chains. Ritchie, a young stag, his horns  
just reaching lethal prominence, Fitz, a satyr in a jester's cap, and Amanda, a Raven with a gold ring around one leg. These visions flared before Joe and Anne, and from them, they saw tendrils of the Quickening extending beyond the horizon, to the world beyond.

And it ended.

Amanda fell to the slab, still.

Duncan rushed up to her, and suddenly Anne was right beside him.

Amanda's eyes popped open. And she screamed.

And Anne saw, they were coming...

Anne assessed the situation in an instant, "Duncan get up on the slab behind her and act as a brace. She needs to be able to push back against something. Put your arms around her and hold her."

Duncan jumped to do as he was told.

Amanda glanced around her and was overwhelmed by another contraction.

Duncan grabbed her hands and held on tight. When the contraction ended he whispered in her ear, "I'll nay leave your side Lass." He kissed her softly on the back of her head.

She hugged his arms closer around him and wailed, "Here comes another one!"

Ann was in front of Amanda, "Good, push hard, I see a head!"

Amanda gritted her teeth and strained with all her might.... She broke two of Duncan's fingers while squeezing his hand.

He didn't say a word.

Anne got in Amanda's face, "Ok, this is it... this next time push as hard as you can."

Amanda took a deep breath and did as she was instructed... Anne lifted a baby girl and grinned at Duncan, who simply shook his head and grinned.

Amanda, glanced at her Daughter and shouted, "Again!"

Anne made sure the dark haired, blue-eyed baby was breathing; She quickly severed and tied the umbilical cord. She pulled her sweater off over her head, wrapped the baby and laid it on the slab next to Amanda.

The second child was already crowning.... Anne had Amanda push hard again and the second child entered the world. Anne checked the baby, cut the cord and wrapped the blond haired, brown-eyed baby boy in the blanket that Costanza handed to her. She laid both infants in Amanda's arms. Wiped her hands and said, "Congratulations MOM!"

The two babies did not cry. They both silently stared at Amanda with wide eyes. Duncan put his hands on Amanda's shoulders, the healing bones popping into place on the one, and looked at the wee ones.

"They're beautiful, Amanda," he kissed her on top of her head. "You did it."


	34. What Was That?

The storm faded away, the black ring of clouds around the island vanished. The stars shone clear and bright, blinking as if in greeting of the new mystery among  
them. Methos helped Joe up, who was looking a bit battered.

Joe looked up and down the ancient Immortal, his friend, with new awe.

"What?" Methos asked, a bit perplexed at Joe's expression.

"I saw something during all the fireworks...something...let's just say I got a little  
more insight into all of you." he said, gesturing to all the Immortals present.

"What did you see, Joe?" asked Ritchie, his curiosity extremely piqued. Fitz also looked at the Watcher.

"I saw...ah...I'll try to explain it later. It was weird. I'm wondering if Anne saw it, too. Did you guys see anything?

The three Immortals looked at each other, then Fitz said, "Let's just say we were given the gift of loose ends...if not tied...they aren't quite so frayed anymore."

"Your turn, Joe," Methos said.

"Hm, I don't know how to put it to you, Methos. Somehow, I was given a chance to see you, Ritchie, Fitzcairn and Duncan in, I don't know, the "Grand Scheme" of this Game of yours. I can't put it any better than than."

The three Immortals present looked at Joe, then at each other.

After a pause, Methos said, "I hope you'll consider favoring us with an idea of what that means."

"I will. Later. When I have time to think about what it means, myself," Joe promised.

Someone was coming thru the doorway temple. It was Anne. She smiled, seeing the expectant men.

"Guys, come on in. Got some new arrivals I'd like you to meet..."


	35. The Naming

The men followed Anne into the temple. They, Methos and Joe in particular, looked about them, marveling at the construction of the place.

"It's as if it...grew into existence," Joe mused.

"More likely, willed into existence," Methos murmured.

"We have legends and anecdotes in our records that hint about this island, going as far back as the Watchers themselves," said Joe. "But no one has been here before now, as far as I know. I even thought Constanza's arrival here was recent. How wrong I was."

"Probably," Methos said with a small smirk. Joe looked at him and snorted, shaking his head with a smile.

Methos continued," Obviously, the orchestrators of the Game intended this island to be some kind of receptor of lost Quickening, to serve this purpose when the time came. The time has come. And here we are, in the middle of it. Front row seat of the world's secret history. It's what the Watchers are all about, right? Enjoy the ride."

"Yeah, if I'm not thrown off," Joe said, "I thought that was it for me during that Quickening storm."

"You're too flinty to be wiped by some errant display of cosmic energy, Joe,"

Joe chuckled. Then saw Anne was leading them thru a doorway into a large chamber. The crystal's lower end could be seen dangling through the ceiling into the chamber.

And there was Duncan, hovering near Amanda. Amanda was seated upon a stone slab, covered in a blanket. Two babies were nestled into her arms, quiet and still. Both looked at the men as they entered the room...

One set of blue eyes and one set of brown followed the progress of the men as they approached.

Amanda looked at Joe and Methos and smiled, "Where are Richie and Fitz?"

Methos stepped forward," Oh, they'll be along soon. We didn't want to crowd you.

Don't be silly, "Joe will you go get them, please"

Methos reached Amanda's side. He looked into her face and into Duncan's... yes it was there the glow of wonder he'd seen on thousands of new mortal parents faces. He was suddenly stabbed with his own feelings... what was this, envy, jealousy, wonder... What?

He cleared his throat and looked at the two infants. They seemed much more aware and alert than any newborn he'd ever seen. "Ummm, Amanda... do they understand what they are?"

Amanda hugged the bundles, "I think so?" "Want to hold one?"

Methos who had never really ever WANTED to hold a newborn was surprised to feel his eagerness. He reached out and lifter the nearest babe from Amanda's arms. He cradled it in his arms... stared down, smiled, felt tiny fingers wrap around his pinky. I n a choked voice he asked" What's it like? And...what's her name?"

Richie and Fitz had been hanging back with a conversation of their own.

Richie was having a moment of weirdness overload, and Fitz was talking him down.

"Ritchie, it's normal in the lives of men and women. Wee bairns and all that. Natural conclusion to the interactions we are driven..." Fitz said wistfully.

"But not us. Weird wonder number one. And us, weird wonder number two. This island, three. Constanza, number four. What we saw, number five. Just what are we going to see when we get in there? I don't know if I can handle it right now."

"Richie...buck up. The women are handling it better than you," Fitz said.

Richie looked at him sharply.

"Kidding, lad. But let's get in there and see what there is to see. Don't want to offend the fair Amanda, do we?"

Joe said, "No you don't. C'mon in, fellas. This is pretty special."

Joe led the stag and satyr into the inner chamber, and they say the children.

"Wow," Ritchie breathed. "They look normal."

Anne and Amanda both looked at Ritchie.

"Well, what did you expect?" Amanda said, sounding a bit offended.

"Um...just...sorry..." Ritchie mumbled.

Amanda softened and said, "Want to hold one, Richie?"

The brown-eyed one in Amanda's lap took in Rtchie as he reached for the child. Ritchie stopped trying to figure it all out and just held the kid, who stared at him.

"Tell me, faire Amanda, and not as fair Duncan, what names for the babes?", Fitz asked.

Duncan indicated the brown eyed boy in Richie's arms, "Darius."

"And this one?", Methos asked, looking at the blue eyed little girl who held his finger tightly.

Amanda had a small tear in one eye, as she said with a proud smile, "Rebecca."


	36. Honor of the Name

Over the next day or so, living quarters shifted around a bit, as Amanda, Duncan, Anne and the babies settled into the house Constanza had pointed out. It was of similar construction to the temple, though it had smaller interior spaces, wood lining and floors, and was really quite comfortable, if spartan in décor. Ritchie, Joe, Methos and Fitz settled into the rooms in the boat.

Constanza had vanished without a word, and no one was sure where he went. The only thing he had said in answer to "What now?" was, "Take care of these children. I'll be back soon." And he was gone.

The phenomenal growth that had marked the children when Amanda was carrying them continued. And at the end of one week, they were physically five years old. And there was something about them that made them seem far older. Was it their quiet natures? Their eyes that took in everything around them? Their ears that never missed a word uttered? Clad in their light brown clothes that seemed to be supplied in the right size from a mysterious source, they played and laughed like any children, but had moments of introspection that belonged to those far beyond their years.

Duncan leaned in the doorway, watching the kids out in the field like area between the house and the temple. Ritchie and Fitz were playing with the kids. Ritchie had found himself with a small sidekick, as Darius had taken a particular shine to the young Immortal. And Ritchie had no problem with that, whatsoever. They were a good match up, and Duncan had full confidence when he saw the two together.

Then, there was the other match up. Rebecca was taken with Fitz. The little brown haired, blue-eyed girl had been fascinated with Fitz from the beginning. The Hugh Fitzcairn charm was already taking hold. Duncan trusted Fitz, but the protective side of him still was...silly. She was a child. Maybe, when she was older...and that would be far sooner. But...well, he would keep an eye on things.

Naming children. These new entities among them, and they selected sounds with which they would be identified. They had first names. But the rest?

"They need middle and last names," Amanda said, coming up behind Duncan and wrapping arms around his back. Duncan turned to kiss Amanda. Still radiant, her body had healed completely from the trauma of the pregnancy within moments after the children had been released from her body. She was beautiful. He kissed her, holding her in his strong embrace.

"Mm, there's the Highlander I like so much," she grinned.

"You're beautiful," Duncan said simply.

"I know," she grinned.

"Modest, too," Duncan quipped.

"Modesty is dull," Amanda said, "I'm just happy to have our Immortal recuperation talents. I've seen what pregnancy can do to women. Ew." Amanda made a face.

"That's due to bad diet and no exercise, before, and especially during and after," Anne said, walking into the room. "Much of that can be avoided."

"That sounds like work," Amanda said.

"It is," Anne said. "But it can be done."

Amanda wrinkled her nose, looked back at the kids, and said, "Well, how about names?"

"Has this been on your mind that much, Amanda?", Duncan asked.

"Well, don't like to leave loose ends dangling,", Amanda said.

Duncan rolled his eyes and thought of the litany, but shook his head, and just asked, "What do you see as middle names?"

"You first."

"Alright. I want the boy to carry the name Connor."

Amanda nodded and smiled slightly, "I think he'd like that. I hope you get a chance to tell him."

"So, how about Rebecca, what's her middle name?", Anne asked.

Amanda turned to the woman behind her and said, "I hope you don't mind, but her middle name is Anne."

Anne smiled and nodded, "Thank you, Amanda. I'm honored." She then paused, "So, how do you pick last names?"

"Simple," Amanda said, "Darieux."

"Why not MacLeod?", Duncan asked, sounding somewhat offended.

"Duncan, you put so much stock in your clan name. Geez, there are other names out there. I DID give birth to those kids, you know."

Duncan looked offended.

"Oh, that MacLeod pride damaged now. So clumsy of me."

"It is important to me, Amanda. But I can understand why it wouldn't be as important to you," Duncan said.

"Duncan...geez, naming is one of the few things I have control over here....look, I'm going with MacLeod, too. Your last name is a central part of yourself, while mine is just something I put on a driver's license. I have no problem with MacLeod at all. I just like seeing you pout."

Amanda grinned. Duncan was so cute when he was offended, sometimes.

Methos came around the corner with Joe. They had been looking over the house, marveling at it for similar reasons they had the Temple. Methos was grinning widely, overhearing the conversation. He understood Duncan's pride at his Clan's name. They may be Immortals, but he understood the all too human need for roots and reference points. And, at the same time, he understood Amanda's attitude on the use of a name like a garment. To be discarded when it had outworn it's welcome, or had become too dirty.

"Oh, Duncan, would it really upset you if Amanda had insisted on her current last name?"

"Well...Amanda gave birth to them," Duncan said. "I was just their to hold her hand. I didn't even provide the usual contribution."

Amanda reached out with fingertips and turned Duncan's head toward her.

"Dear Duncan, you've contributed more than your share, more than many biological fathers. I have no problem welcoming our children to Clan MacLeod."

Duncan smiled and hugged her.

Joe wondered out loud, "Your family keeps some kind of record. You and Amanda going to go to Scotland after this to put them in?"

Duncan hugged Amanda, and the two looked at each other and then at Joe.

"Yes."


	37. Brother and Sister

Guard, sweep, high guard, parry, thrust. Ritchie continued through a series of maneuvers with his blade. He thought about Duncan, when he does this sort of thing. With Duncan, it's a kind meditation. With him, its just practice. Keeping the skills sharp. In fact, he was in the mood for some sparring. He would ask Duncan later if he was up for a few rounds. If not, maybe Methos or Fitz?

Restless energy. Can go stir crazy on this island.

Thrust, parry, retreat...

No...no...he wouldn't.

There was Darius. Who'da thought? He had a big brother that he never had before in the person of Duncan. And now, a little brother.

Darius.

The boy was smart, wow, so damn smart. He never missed anything that happened around him, either. And he didn't ask the kind of fluff questions most kids did. He asked deep, profound questions that, frankly, he sometimes felt inadequate about answering.

Example.

"Ritchie, what is the Quickening?"

"Uh...portable electrical storm?"

"What?"

"Well, that's what happens."

"Why?"

"It's all the power, experience and ability, the essence of an Immortal, released in a moment."

"Why lightning? And why don't mortals have this?"

"Dude...I don't know."

"Does Methos know?"

"I'm sure he's heard things. Has theories. But know, he doesn't know. None of us do."

"Why do you play the Game?"

"Why I play the Game? Because others are. And if I don't, I'll become someone's victim."

"They would want your Quickening."

"Yep."

No questions about why they would want it. He seemed to know.

"Do you want to be the One?"

Ritchie looked at the lad, who appeared to be about eight.

"I'm gonna slug it out. But do I want it? Hell, I don't know what being the 'One' means. All I know right now is, I want to live."

Darius nodded and seemed to gaze at a distant point. He then turned his gaze back to Ritchie and walked up to the Immortal, handing him a towel. He then touched Ritchie's thigh.

"Methos says you're it," Darius chuckled and ran off.

Fitz looked at Rebecca. The little girl blew a lock of dark brown hair away from her ghost blue eyes. She then concentrated on the rock in front of her. Beautiful rocks, a wide range of types. A natural geologist, she seemed to have the aesthetics of a visual artist.

She looked over at a spot in the dirt under a nearby tree, and Fitz could see her in profile. Her delicately turned nose, fine angles, soft lips, she was a beautiful girl. And given time, she was going to be an absolutely devastatingly beautiful woman. Which would be a matter of a couple of weeks, probably.

Which weirded him out. Very much.

Rebecca came back from the tree with another rock. She placed it in her arrangement and said, "I like patterns. Patterns make sense."

Not the sort of thing you hear from eight year olds normally.

"Well, yes, lass, they do. But I'll tell you, love. Not everything allows itself to be sorted into such easy patterns. Some things you just have to accept. The loose strings of our lives."

Most eight year olds would have no idea what he was talking about. But Rebecca nodded and said, "But isn't that what really makes a beautiful pattern? Movement? Dynamism? Motion? Purpose?"

"Well...I'm no artist, Becky, well, not professionally, sometimes, well... I think it's an interaction between the two. And what you are doing there..." indicating the rocks, "...is an abstraction. It's like a painting. You are capturing a moment of beauty. And beauty is truly one of the finest spices of life. Beauty in nature is life celebrating itself."

Rebecca nodded, chewing on that.

"And what about ugliness?"

"Well, sometimes that's in the eye of the beholder, luv. Occasionally, though, when it's the real deal, true hideousness, why, it just makes us appreciate the beauty that much more."

"Fitz, do you think I'm beautiful?", Rebecca asked, looking at him?

Fitz started, but said, "Lass, you are a lovely girl. And when you get older...well, Duncan will probably be more uncomfortable about you being alone with me."

Something about Rebecca just cut through the BS.

"Why? You wouldn't hurt me."

"Of course not, lass," Fitz said emphatically. "But...it's hard to explain."

Rebecca was silent, seeming to stare off into space.

"No, I understand," she said at last. She then looked at Fitz and said, "You have nothing to fear from me, Fitz."

She smiled sweetly.

"Ah yes," said Fitz, returning the smile.

But he knew, the clock was ticking. And at some point, things were going to change.

Somehow.

Static, Dynamic. And so many unknowns to deal with.

For now, though, he was big brother to a lovely, and very unusual little girl, daughter of a good friend.

Was it too much to ask it all to stay that simple?


	38. Ponderings

Scents wafted throughout the living area of the villa Duncan, Amanda, Anne and the children were calling "home", at least for now. In divvying up the domestic chores, it was pretty simple. Amanda didn't want any of them, really. But she accepted, with fairly regular whining, cleaning chores. Duncan cooked. And as Amanda could attest, he was an INCREDIBLE cook. In fact, he had a small feast in the works. It was Joe's idea, the kids get a birthday party. And everyone was pulling out all the stops, yet trying to keep it secret. Duncan was working up a selection of delectables. Joe and Methos had barbeque going in a pit out back. Anne was working on a lovely cake. Amanda was tidying up around the place. Kinda grumbling at it, but she really was feeling festive.

Joe came wandering in, apron all smeared. He saw Amanda folding clothes and chuckled. She shot him a dirty look.

"Constanza didn't provide a maid service," she whined.

"Well, considering EVERYTHING we need seems to just appear out of nowhere, that's not a huge cause for complaint, Amanda." He shook his head and said, "We haven't seen Constanza for a few weeks now, yet these things appear. Food, clothes for the kids. Hell, Methos and I found those pig and cow carcasses we are now roasting. Those weren't there before. Someone is keeping an eye on us and is working to make our stay comfortable, even enjoyable."

"Well, then why not a maid?" Amanda grumped.

"Keep you from getting spoiled, keep you humble, grounded, I guess," Joe said. "Nothing more humbling than changing dirty diapers, eh?"

Amanda made a face, "I'm glad that didn't last long."

Anne came out of the kitchen, covered with flour, "It can wear on you," she confessed. "But like anything else, you get through it, knowing it will end. And it's a chance to be intimate with your child."

"I guess intimacy is one word. To me, if felt kinda like nausea," She sighed and then looked at Joe and Anne conspiratorially, "Don't tell him I said it, but I think he's a lot better at those kind of things than I am."

"Thank you, dear!" said Duncan cheerfully from the kitchen.

Amanda stuck out her tongue in the direction of the kitchen.

"So is the cow cooperating?" Anne asked Joe.

Joe smiled and said, "The Dawson family have been champion barbeque-ers for generations, and we make it a point to continuously pass it down, I'll have you know. We hold many a county fair taste test trophy for the culinary wizardly we work. Whoda thought I'd get a fresh cow carcass out here?"

Methos stuck his head in the door, his 'Kiss the Cook' apron smeared with sauce. "Dead swine, too. Our divine minders do seem to be somewhat concerned about maintaining some semblance of normalcy."

He then sniffed the air, "Garlic, finely roasted? Duncan's lasagna?"

"Spaghetti!" came Duncan from the kitchen.

"Fresh melted garlic butter with the bread?" Methos asked into the kitchen doorway.

"And freshly baked bread!" Duncan said back.

Methos looked a bit downcast. "Makes my porcine piece seem paltry by comparison." He then smiled.

"Wow, this is some shindig. My first birthday was nothing like this, that's for sure. At least I think I'm sure. I don't really remember."

Duncan appeared in the doorway, "I want to do something to let them know their being born is something to be celebrated. We don't know how this is all going to end. Will they have a real birthday? We don't know. I don't want to take a chance."

Amanda looked sad, "Yeah."

Out in the jungle, Ritchie had taken a now thirteen year old appearing Darius rock climbing. They wanted to see if they could reach the top of one of the stone spires in the outer circle of the island. As they ascended, Ritchie glanced at Darius to see how he was doing. The boy looked intently as he ascended, handhold after handhold. His dark brown eyes focused ahead of him. The muscles in his arms, toned and strong in the manner of youth, honed by constant drilling from Ritchie, worked steadily. He had paid close attention to the lessons in making an ascent, though he seemed to be in a bit of a hurry.

"Yo, Darius, slow up, man," Ritchie warned.

Darius looked back at Ritchie, the impatience clear on his face.

"Take it easy. No hurry, "Ritchie said with a smile. "That column top ain't going anywhere. But if you fall, you will be. And the sudden stop won't be fun."

"But Immortals don't fear such things," Darius said, heading on up.

"Well, fear isn't the right word," Ritchie grunted as he followed. "No, that fall wouldn't kill me. But it would hurt like hell. Besides, we don't know if you're immortal, man."

Darius paused, then resumed the climb in silence. The two of them eventually reached the top, a large table flat stone surface, with plenty of space to walk around. Below them was the island, green and dark behind its gray rock walls. They could see the sapphire of the lagoon, and the barge in its stone cradle. They could see the stone of the temple and the villa. Twin columns of smoke rose from the villa.

"Wow, I wonder what's going on there?" Richie said, a smile in his voice.

Darius shrugged.

"Hey, what's the matter?" Richie asked, tapping Darius on the shoulder, noting the boy's pensiveness.

"Richie, what are you afraid of?" Darius asked.

"Afraid?" Ritchie said, looking at Darius. He then looked at the deep blue ocean behind them, the sapphire sky above, the gray clouds around, the mist farther out on the ocean.

"Truth? I'm afraid of never finding out where I fit into all this. I'm Immortal. Yeah, so what? I'm gonna live a long time. Maybe. But what does that really mean? I would like to find out what I'm supposed to do with it, if anything."

"Do mortals have that same concern?

"Yeah, they do," Richie said, clearly remembering it, as his formal mortal life was still relatively recent in memory.

"So, what's the difference?" Darius asked.

"Well, Duncan, Fitz, especially Methos could tell you this better, but you have a lot longer to think about it. For me, one of the hardest parts of coping with all this is dealing with it when an answer doesn't come right away. I'm not very patient."

"But you have a long time to figure it out..."

"I don't know that," Richie corrected. "Thing is, is to realize you may not have all the answers, and they may be long in coming. If ever. And somehow accept it."

"Have you?" Darius asked, his eyes on Richie's.

"That'll probably be a life long project for me," Riche sighed after a moment.

Darius stood up, went over to his gear, and pulled out the sword Richie had borrowed from Duncan for his use. He took a few practice swings and took up a guard position. He smiled.

"Up here?" Richie said, looking around.

"Yeah," Darius said, "Up here. Where the Gods can here the clashing of our swords. They're listening, you know."

"Yeah, my priest told me the same thing," Richie quipped. He went and got his blade. Yeah, this would be a fun place to spar, if they were careful. And up there, high above the island, and with everything going on, things did take on a bit of a mythic quality. And Darius had gotten much better at this since he had been schooling him."

The two traded blows and blocks, smiling and chuckling. Their blades sang with impacts nigh musical. And yes, perhaps some celestial entities danced indeed to the song of steel.

Rebecca sat in the glade in front of the chessboard she had put together using local rocks, and tools produced from the ether that so much of their other things appeared. She had also tried getting more attractive clothes. Darius still used the nondescript tan clothes they have been getting since the beginning. She wanted something more. A navy blue sleeveless blouse hung on her shapely shoulders over a light blue tank top. An errant brassiere strap, red in color could be seen on one of her shoulders. And yes, Fitz had notice she was developing VERY WELL. And almost overnight. He's heard tales of women who went to sleep and woke up with bosoms? Well, with Rebecca, it was quite literally true. There they were, round, ripe, already pasting the budding stage and well into full, rounded maturity.

Steady on, Fitz, milad.

Comfortable, loose jeans rode her hips and rounded backside. Long, powerful legs carried her gracefully. She looked like she wanted to just take off and run. And if she did, Doctor Anne would need to introduce her to the sports brassier.

Easy, Fitzcairn.

Her blond hair was in an easy ponytail running down her back. It flapped in the ocean breeze like a banner, flying to announcer her imminent womanhood.

And the Army of Hugh was on the alert. While trying to maintain nonchalance. He made his move.

"Your Queen will be mine, lass," Fitz said, pointedly avoiding her cleavage as she bent over the board.

She moved her King's Rook forward, and said "Take her."

"With pleasure, my sweet," Fitz said, a smile on his face.

"Mate you in seven moves," Rebecca said matter-of-factly.

"Really?" Fitz said, cursing his mind apparently in a permanent entendre mode now.

And, seven moves later, Fitz scratched his head, not quite getting it.

"Where did you learn to play chess like that? I'm good at many things, but my talent in chess is middling at best."

Rebecca sat on her haunches and smiled, "Well, Methos and Joe have given me some tips. But somehow, I just know. I don't know how. I just get..."

"What?" Methos asked.

"Fitz...how many duels have you won? How much Quickening have you taken?"

Fitz's eyes narrowed, all playfulness gone, all erotic thoughts temporarily chased away. "Beg pardon?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that..?"

Fitz waved her off, and said, "No, lass, don't worry your head about it. Honestly, I don't think about it much. Some Immortals make hash marks. Me? It's part of what we do. I don't think about it. I'd much rather dwell upon the sweet wine of life, rather than the bitter tears of battle and loss. Why do you ask, luv?"

"Can you talk to them?" she said, her blue eyes on him.

"Talk to whom, lass?"

"Those whose Quickening you've taken? Can you talk to them?"

Fitz stared at Rebecca. He scratched his chin, and formulated his response, "No, I can't. I suppose it's not impossible, but...it's not something I think about."

"I can," Rebecca said. "All those women whose Quickening was lost, I now have. And they talk to me. They tell me things."

"What do they say, since you are on speaking terms?" Fitz asked, in spite of himself.

"More than a few know you, Fitz."

Fitz was numb, but curiousity propelled him forward. "And what do they say, lass?"

Rebecca paused, "Some of them would love to slap you right now, throw a drink in your face."

"And the others?"

"They want you, Fitz. Badly. I can feel it. Oh...I can..."

She stared at Fitz, a line of sweat running down her neck into her cleavage. She then grinned and said, "And you know what? Some of those women are ones who want to slap you. She then paused, "That doesn't make sense," she said, looking perplexed.

"Actually, it does," said Fitz.


	39. Inner Voices

Richie and Darius were taking a break from their latest sparring bout at the top of the stone spire. The majesty of celestial display could only last for so long for a couple of young men feeling their oats. Eventually, though, playful butting of horns, marked by clashing, sparking swords, gave way to hunger as afternoon approached. Besides, the wind carried upon itself an unmistakable scent, quite familiar to olfactory senses experienced with out of the way hole in the wall eateries.

"Barbeque..." Richie breathed, sniffing the air. He turned to look at the twin smoke columns nearby the villa, taking in the sight and smell.

Darius sniffed, too. He puzzled at the smell, wrinkling his nose. "I THINK it smells good," he said hesitantly.

Richie turned to him and laughed, "Dude, of COURSE it smells good. But wait till you taste it. Oh yeah. Good times. I wonder where they managed to find a dead cow, though."

"I remember cows," Darius said distantly.

"How? You've never seen one," Richie asked.

"They know," Darius said.

"Who?"

"Them. The voices. They tell me things," Darius said, sounding odd.

"About cows?" Richie asked with a chuckle. "Ok, Darius, quit fooling around. You're spooking me out."

Darius looked at him sharply and said with a quiet intensity, "I hear the voices."

"Huh," Richie said, looking at Darius with narrow eyes, "Hey, if you want to talk about it, bro, I'm here.."

"No."

"Ok...C'mon, let's go. I could eat a whole cow by myself."

The two of them began the descent, carefully finding hand and footholds. Richie watched Darius closely, and was worried. He seemed distracted. And then, he slipped. Richie's hand shot out to grab and stop him.

"Grab the wall!" he shouted to Darius. But, in steadying Darius, his own handhold slipped. And then, he was falling...

"RICHIE!!!!" Darius screamed, watching Richie's dark green eyes, wide with fear, plunge away.

"I'LL BE ALRIGHT! TAKE YOUR TIME!" Richie shouted, his voice fading quickly.

Darius, fearful, scrambled down, almost falling several times. At last, he arrived at the bottom, and saw Richie's broken, battered, bloody body. And it was growing less broken, battered and bloody by the second.

His hand was on the handle of his sword. He didn't even remember putting it there. His vision seemed to blur.

A distant voice seemed to say, "Do it. Do it now."

"No..." Darius said weakly, shaking his head.

The voice faded.

Richie sat up, an arm bent very wrong snapping into place. "OW! DAMN!", he swore.

He looked at Darius, "See, doesn't kill. Hurts like a sonofabitch, though."

Darius walked over and helped him up, looking odd and distant.

Richie looked at him with concern, "Hey, are you ok?"

Darius was silent, staring at Richie, then said, "Yeah, I am. Come on, I want to try cow."

Richie smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"Let's go, dude. Got some cool stuff for ya!"

Fitz and Rebecca finished their fourth game of chess.

"Three out of four games won. Not bad for a beginner," Fitz said, stroking his chin. He then looked at her suspiciously, "You weren't getting coached by all those ladies in your head, were you?"

Rebecca blinked her blue eyes innocently; the barest hint of a smile on her face, "No, Fitz, I beat you fair and square. Some of them were watching with interest. I think there was even some bet making going on."

"You, the repository of all unclaimed female Quickening, lass. I can't imagine carrying such a burden."

Rebecca seemed to look inward for a moment, her eyes going distant. They then snapped back to the present, and sparkled as they focused on Fitz.

"I can't imagine not carrying it. I was born with it, Fitz. There hasn't been a moment where I've been silent with my voice alone. I was born knowing. The first time I saw you, the voices spoke to me."

"I can't imagine it," Fitz said wonderingly. "What did they say when you were born?"

Rebecca seemed to withdraw in herself again, then snapped back, "They said, 'Poor bairn.'"

She looked sad for a second, then smiled, "You know what they also said? They said, 'Enjoy it while it lasts, sister. Enjoy it all.' I intend to."

She reached out and took Fitz's hand. He smiled and squeezed her hand warmly.

"Now, aren't you supposed to take me to a birthday lunch? Joe's cooking a cow, Methos is making barbequed pig?"

"You're not supposed to know that, lass," Fitz said with mock reproach.

"I know," Rebecca said, hanging her head. She then looked again at Fitz and said, "Lead me! I'll act surprised!"

Fitz smiled brightly, "I should be proud to escort you then, m'dear."

The two chatted animatedly as they bent to pick up the chess set and store it, then were off, hand in hand, hungry and happy.


	40. Concerns and Cooking

Joe bent low over his roasting animal, sniffing deeply. A satisfied smile spread across his face. "Mmmm...MM!", he grunted satisfactorily.

"Too much garlic. Not enough wine. Just what year was that, anyway?" Methos quipped.

Joe shot an annoyed glance at Methos, then turned back to his subject. He continued gingerly basting the cooking cow and said, "I have no idea. Like most other things here, I wished the wine up. But it tastes like it's supposed to taste, in and out of the sauce."

"If you say so," Methos shrugged. "I contend you must have the real thing along, or you are just, "faking the funk", as Richie says."

"Oh, and you brought along ingredients for barbequing pig, Methos?" Joe said with a touch of exasperation.

"Well...when you are stuck on a deserted island, you improvise," Methos said with a sense of self-satisfaction. "Did you ever watch that show, 'Gilligan's Island'? Charming show. Did the Professor ever figure out a way to plug the hole in that boat?"

"Methos, you do know they pulled the plug on that show decades ago?" Joe said with a snort.

Methos tilted his head, "They did? Pity. I don't watch much television, truth to tell, but I did catch that one. Didn't do justice to the original Daniel Dafoe, truth to tell. Hm, isolation, rebellion. I guess those will be the fruits of the soul of a man who was in and out of debtor's prison. Too bad we don't have that, anymore. Might result in better television."  
  
Joe looked at Methos, trying to tell if he was joking. Methos was carefully deadpan. Joe chuckled and then said, "Methos, I want you to taste this..."

"Joe..." Methos started.

"No, you're gonna taste this," Joe said, cutting off a piece a few bite sizes large. "You have the nerve to badmouth my beef, not only insulting me, but generations of Dawsons and small town county fair barbeque contests, you HAVE to taste test it."

Methos gingerly accepted the brown-black-pink beef piece, sniffed it, then bit off a piece. Chewed thoughtfully. His eyes lit up.

Joe grinned, "Not bad for imitation generated out of the empty, is it?"

Methos bowed, "I beg forgiveness. But in return..." he then cut off a piece of his turning hog. He held it out to Joe.

Joe looked at it, then speared it with a spit and took a bite. He nodded with enthusiasm, "Well, whatever you snagged out of Mac's galley, it did the trick."

"Well, luckily, Duncan's a bit of a gourmet himself. He keeps a well stocked larder. Women are impressed by that sort of thing."

"That's what I hear," Joe said thoughtfully.

"You know, we ought to open a restaurant when we get back to civilization," Methos said.

"I have a restaurant," Joe said, turning back to his cow.

"No, I mean a REAL restaurant, not a smoke filled gin joint," Methos emphasized.

Joe looked offended.

"Not that it's not a VERY NICE smoke filled gin joint," Methos added hastily, "But I'm talking about the sort one could bring the offspring, to eat in comfort and class."

"Ok, I'll play along," Joe said, "What would we call this theoretical eatery?"

"Oh, I have that covered," Methos said confidently. "Not Joe's, as that's taken. No, I'm thinking...Adam's Family...something or other. I'll work on it," he added, seeing Joe grinning widely.

"You're just stuck in old TV mode," Joe said with a laugh.

Fitz and Rebecca emerged from the treelike, hand in hand, smiling pleasantly, chatting. Duncan looked at them, a mix of emotions flowing through his eyes. Amanda looked angry. Anne looked pensive.

"Duncan...what is it with you? Fitz is your friend! Further, he's Rebecca's friend! She's taken to him ever since she was born. You saw her that day. She clung to him like he was a life preserver and she had been tossed off the deck of the Titanic. Fitz knows how you feel, and look at him, you can TELL he wants to behave himself!"

"How do you know, Amanda?" Duncan muttered.

"I KNOW," Amanda said. "Trust me, there are a few things I am an absolute master in. This is one of them. Fitz would no more take her 'honor' than you would."

Duncan looked at her.

"Ok, maybe not emphatic, but he would die for her. I would stake my life on it."

Duncan looked at Anne.

Anne shrugged her shoulders, "Duncan...I don't know Fitz nearly as well as either of you, but it's clear he's very protective of Rebecca. And it's safe to say he's her best friend. And friends may be something few and far between for these children. This may be all they know. I'd think carefully before interfering with it."

"You are saying Fitz isn't attracted to Rebecca?" Duncan asked the two women.  
  
"He thinks of her as a little girl still, though it is clear, physically, she's closing in on sixteen, seventeen," Anne said. "He loves her company, but is more protective of her than anything else."

"What about Rebecca?" Duncan asked.

"She likes Fitz, but all women do. You know this," Amanda said. "But she is drawn to his adventurous nature, his love, his lust for life. She wants to experience it like he has. Yes, she is attracted to him. But Fitz can handle that."

Her eyes pleaded with Duncan.

Duncan sighed and looked back out. Richie and Darius were returning from their climb. Richie looked cheerful, though his clothes were torn up. Darius looked withdrawn, pensive. Richie didn't seem to notice.

Amanda nudged Duncan with a smile, "C'mon, Daddy, it's birthday for the twins!"


	41. Happy Birthday!

The immortal/twin pairs walked into the villa grounds. Fitz had a small, sneaky grin on his face, while Rebecca looked innocent and unknowing. Nope, not a clue. Ritchie looked pleased. Darius looked...elsewhere.

Joe and Methos looked up from their respective barbeque projects, carving utensils close by. Joe beamed, while Methos smiled and said, "Welcome home. A walk in the woods often helps for clarity, doesn't it?"

Rebecca nodded and smiled at Methos, "Of course!" She slipped an arm into Fitz's. Methos' eyebrows went up a bit. Fitz shrugged and looked sheepish, "The lady knows her stones. And can play a ruthless game of chess." Rebecca smiled impishly.

Everyone then looked at Richie and the disastrous state of his garments, "Lad, what happened to you? Did you take on a full grown bull elephant?" Fitz said wonderingly.

"Nah. Bigger," Richie said, "I won." He folded his arms.

Darius snapped out of his reverie and looked at Richie, "I was there. That's not what it looked like."

"Dude, I had it under control," Richie said, with a come-on-go-with-me-on-this glare. "Everything was going to be copasetic."

"What does copasetic look like?" Darius asked, all innocence.

"Like what happened," Richie said with confidence.

"Yeah. Copasetic," Darius said, after a moment, looking at everyone else. Both Richie and Darius grinned at everyone else.

"You sure you don't want to change first?" Joe asked, after a pause.

"Nah, I like the way it shows me off," Richie said, flexing a bit.

Joe shook his head with a chuckle, "I think it's time we got this show on the road, don't you?", he asked, turning to Methos. "Wanna do the honors?"

"Sure," Methos said. He began ringing an iron triangle, while Joe shouted, "COME AN' GET IT!!"

Duncan, Amanda and Anne came out of the villa, carrying a big, ornate cake and other foodstuffs, singing loudly.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday, Rebecca and Darius, Happy Birthday to YOUUUUUUU..."

Joe, Methos, Duncan, Richie harmonized like a Barbershop quartet plus one. Fitz's was the strongest voice, and he soloed, going into a screech at the end, dropping to one knee, head bowed.

Darius looked stunned. Rebecca put one hand to her forehead and "fainted", falling into Fitz's arms. He caught her deftly, as if he had had years of experience catching fainting groupies. She then opened her eyes, wrapped arms around his neck, and gave him a light peck on the lips.

Fitz grinned and helped her up, and said, "Easy, lass, today is your birthday. You're getting presents, not me."

Rebecca smiled as she gained her feet. Fitz gestured her to the table. She curtsied and walked to the table. Richie slapped Darius on the shoulder and gave a "C'mon" gestured. Darius sat down, gazing over the repast in wonder.

Duncan gestured at Joe, who bowed his head and gave the meal a brief blessing, wishing happiness, long life and understanding to all present.

"Amen," everyone said. Darius' was just a quiet murmur, however.

And they dug in. A moment of quiet. A moment of peace. A moment of family and friends, enjoying a meal, and a special occasion.

Fitz saluted Joe and Methos with his knife, "Gentlemen, may I pass complements to the cooks? Absolutely outstanding, fit for kings. Better than most deserve, having know a few, truth be known."

Darius was struggling with spaghetti noodles, trying to find an approach to put them in his mouth. Richie said, "Two schools of thought on this. There's the wuss approach, that is, cutting it up. Then, there's the way REAL spaghetti eaters do it. Roll it up on the fork...like so."

"Or you could just use your hands," Rebecca quipped. Darius narrowed his eyes at her.

"I remember the days before silverware," Methos said. "Among the complexities of more recent history, this is one I certainly embrace wholeheartedly."

"Who made the bread?" Rebecca asked.

"I did," Anne said. "Actually, when I went through medical school, we experimented with bread recipes in the 'chem lab'."

"Hooray for science students," Duncan said, lifting his glasses.

"And yet again, you wow the ladies with your culinary skills," Fitz said, returning the gesture. "They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"I wonder if the same is true for women?", Joe said.

"Actually, not so much," Amanda interjected, cutting off Duncan's response. "We DO enjoy a good meal, but we are far more impressed just by the effort," she said, kissing Duncan on his cheek."

"Ah yes, but you gentlemen, flesh preparing champions, I salute you," raising his glass to Methos and Joe.

They nodded in acknowledgement.

"I made the salad," Amanda said, looking a bit pouty.

"And a fine salad it is," Fitz said. "Royal roughage, to help in the digestion."

Another toast.

The meal continued, when Joe offered a toast, making sure everyone's glasses were filled, even Rebecca and Darius'. Yes, they were technically "underage", but this new scenario, the adults had agreed beforehand, the rules should be tossed out the window. Just don't let 'em get hammered, and things should be ok.

Joe said, "My friends, with God's blessing, this is the first of many birthdays."

"Hear, hear."

Duncan then stood, his glass raised, "To my friends, thank you from the bottom of my heart. To Amanda, allowing me to share this remarkable experience. To Rebecca and Darius, to opening up an area of life I thought closed to me forever." He went over and hugged and kissed them both. Rebecca warmly returned it. Darius did to, but looked awkward and bewildered.

Amanda then stood, "Me. A mom. ME! I mean, PLEASE. But thanks to everyone here, especially Anne, and most especially, the best Daddy a kid could have, and best man any woman could have to experience this with, thank you."

She hugged and kissed Duncan vigorously. She then showered warm hugs and kisses upon Rebecca and Darius. Rebecca returned it just as warmly. Darius squirmed a bit.

Then, Rebecca stood up, "I have no idea how this is all going to end. I do have some idea how it goes for others, immortals, anyway. And I know, what I have, what I've experienced, is a blessing. If it were to end today, I would be sad, but I would carry happy memories with me. And I owe that to all of you. Duncan, my father. Amanda, my mother. Darius, my brother Methos, my teacher. Anne, my cheerleader. Joe, my repository of wisdom, Ritchie, my big brother, and Fitz, dear Fitz, my best friend."

She stopped for a second, one tear going down her face.

"I thank you."

Glasses were raised before misty eyes around the table.

Darius stood. Everyone looked at him. He looked down at his place. He finally looked up, and stared into the expectant faces.

"Thanks," he simply said, and sat down, looking down. Everyone looked on wonderingly. Rebecca looked concerned.

Methos looked at Darius intently and raised his glass, "You're welcome."

Duncan looked at Methos questioningly. Methos briefly acknowledged him, then drank out of his glass.

Towards the end, the cake was introduced, one side with a Pegasus and a pink candle, the other with a Jack of Spades and a blue candle. Darius and Rebecca looked at each other, doing a silent countdown. They blew them out together, and everyone cheered.

As the cake was enjoyed, the presents came out. Among the highlights included a Grateful Dead tour jacket from Methos for Darius and a book on gem identification and classification from Anne for Rebecca. Duncan had pulled an antique chess set from his collection on the barge for Rebecca, and Amanda had pulled a bikini from effects left on his barge her as well.

Fitz tried hard not to comment.

Darius had gotten an ancient printing of Sun Tzu's "Art Of War" from Duncan, and from Amanda, an Indiana Jones style fedora.

"Befits an adventurer," Methos had commented.

"Looks cool," Richie said, "Stylin'"

Darius gave him a look.

Richie pulled out something in a package, "Found this in an antique store in England. Got it for a steal. A genuine bastard sword forged in the British Isles. Sharpened, ready for combat. The real deal, man."

Darius unwrapped it, stood, held it in a combat stance, and gave it a few tentative swings.

"It's you, bro," Richie said encouragingly.

Darius nodded with satisfaction and thanked Richie with a modest grin.

Then Fitz presented his gift to Rebecca. A pearl necklace, with a diamond pendant hanging at the bottom. "From Africa, a particular artisan, his work reknowned, one of a kind, my dear. As are you."

He placed it around her neck, with a kiss on top of her head. The pearls settled onto the muscles and bones of her neck and shoulders, the diamond settling into her cleavage.

She smiled dazzlingly, "It's perfect, Fitz."

Fitz nodded knowingly, puffing on his pipe.

She leaned forward and kissed him briefly, yet fully, on the mouth.

Fitz started, but smiled.

Duncan's dark eyes went hard for a second, but he then forced a smile, and the party went on into the evening.

Companions, comrades and family, enjoying a beautiful moment. In centuries, beautiful moments are often oases in deserts of strife. Everyone, mortals, immortals and newborns, knew to enjoy this one.

Nighttime, the men were in the living room of the villa, quietly talking.

"Mission accomplished, gentlemen," Methos said, acknowledging his compatriots. "Especially you, sir," saluting Joe.

"Well, all those fairs built up to this," Joe said. "How about you, Richie? You gonna change those clothes?"

"Think I'll keep 'em. These will be my permanent mountaineering clothes," Richie retorted.

"Cute," Joe said, "So, how's Darius? How's he been taking to all this?"

"Darius?" Richie said, "Darius is a good kid. He keeps things close to the chest, but he's got a good heart. I think, in many ways, he's struggling with all this. I mean, born just a couple months ago. Already a young adult...how do you cope with that?"

"Rebecca is managing," Fitz said thoughfully.

"Yes," Methos acknowledged, "Darius seems to be..."

"Struggling?" Richie offered.

"With what?" Duncan asked sharply.

"I...I'm not sure," Methos said, looking down.

Duncan looked hard at him. Methos shrugged.

"Rebecca isn't struggling, my friends. That young lady has a peace, serenity. Did you know she communes with the life forces, the Quickenings she carries?"

The collected immortals and mortals looked astounded. "What?!?" Joe exclaimed. Only Methos didn't seem shocked.

"It's true. Quite uncanny," Fitz nodded.

"Has Darius mentioned anything like that to you?" Duncan asked Richie.

"Huh? Ah...no, not really. But...he often seems withdrawn, distracted. Occasionally surly. I put it down to youthful restlessness. I mean, come on, I can relate. And he's hardly got the corner on brooding, Duncan," Ritchie said with a grin at Duncan.

"Ha ha," Duncan mouthed.

"But Rebecca, she has a serenity I only have seen in one other being my entire life. Curiously, that would be Darius. Remarkable girl."

Duncan looked at Fitz.

Time passed, and the men retired for the evening.

Duncan asked Fitz to stay.

Fitz looked at Duncan questioningly, but kept his place.

Duncan fidgeted and looked down, his face hard, yet conflicted.

"Out with it, Duncan MacLeod," Fitz prodded, "You have something you must say, say it."

"Fitz...I want you to stop spending time alone with Rebecca," he said, his voice a bit choked, his eyes on Fitz's.

"I see," Fitz said quietly, sadly.

"Fitz, I can't thank you enough for being the friend you have been to her. You were instrumental in caring for her since the beginning. Things wouldn't have gone as well as they have without you, but...dammit..."

"She's becoming a girl in a woman's body," Fitz finished for him, "I noticed."

Duncan sat quietly.

"Duncan, you are the protective father, I understand. And I'm quite aware of my reputation with the ladies. Quite deserved, I might add. I've never brought that particular line of sins before a priest, as said clergyman would die from old age before I could finish that confession."

He chuckled, and said, "This is the first time I have been in the 'big brother' position of a 'little sister' in my life. And I realize, it's a sacred task. I didn't ask for it, but she took to me from the beginning. She's a girl, they usually do. Such is my lot."

He stood and said, "You are my friend, Duncan, and you are her adopted father. I would never dishonor her, or you. I confess to being disappointed in your concerns, but I do understand. I will do as you ask. I will let her know in the morrow."

He quietly stood and left.

Duncan sat in the dark. He slept little that night.

The next day, a weeping Rebecca walked swiftly away from Fitz, who stood there, watching her go away, his shoulders sagging.

Duncan stood in the doorway of the villa, listening to her retreating sobbing. He hung his head, then squared his jaw and looked up.

Amanda stood opposite him, watching her go, and watching Fitz walk back towards the barge. She then met Duncan's gaze, and her dark eyes burned with anger at Duncan.

She whirled and stalked into the back of the villa.

Duncan sighed. He then went and changed clothes, picked up a sword, then went for a workout.


	42. Stormy Night

A few days passed. No one said much of anything to each other. There was a sadness upon the island. There was also a lethargy, and a restlessness. Methos and Joe speculated on what was next. Fitz tried to engage Darius, but he was increasingly withdrawn and haunted. Anne looked lost. Amanda looked angry. Duncan looked grim. Richie looked hapless. And Rebecca? No one really knew, as she stayed away from the villa as much as possible, out in the woods.

Then, the clouds gathered over the island again. They grew black and angry. The wind bellowed, rattling the windows, causing candles to flicker. Lightning flashed, a strange, animated lightning. A Quickening lightning.

Duncan was not nearly as worried, as Rebecca had made her way home at the first sign of nature getting rowdy. He looked out at the barge, concerned about his boat being trapped in that stone rack with waves possibly picking up. But the lagoon, shielded from the worst of the wind, didn't stir up that much, so the barge appeared safe.

The storm. It felt...oh yeah, there was something...supernatural about it. Joe, Methos and Richie made their way up to the villa, collars, hoods and hats held down against the fury. Duncan ushered them in, shutting the door. The wind howled against the villa, equal parts sad and angry. No one spoke. The only other sounds besides the wind were a ticking clock...

...and the sound of a sword being sharpened. Darius was preparing his sword, whistling a tuneless whistle, gazing into nothing.

It grew night outside, and the storm only grew more intense. The villa was cozy against the elements, but the dimness, the shadows, the flickering flames added to the pensive, haunted mood.

Then Constanza stood in middle of the room.

Most started, a few barked exclamations of surprise, especially Ritchie's "Jeezus jumping on a pogo stick, Darius with his whetstone.

Constanza looked at the gathered throng with a raised eyebrow. He then looked at Darius, his head cocked. After a moment, he turned to everyone else and said, "Tomorrow, you return. However, you will go to England, instead of France."

"Why England?", Duncan asked, an arm around Amanda. The others watched Constanza in the ring of chairs. Rebecca stood in the corner, looking at Constanza wide eyed. Darius didn't look at Constanza at all.

Skriiiitch....skriiiiitch...

"Your final destination is there. The end of this chapter is at Stonehenge. There, the purpose of the twins will be fulfilled."

"What purpose is that?", Amanda asked Constanza hesitantly.

"They will release the Quickening they carry. The balance will be restored. The Game can then continue to it's conclusion," he added with a note of satisfaction.

"But, after that ends...", Duncan said, with a bit of dread, reaching a hand to the trembling Rebecca. She walked forward and took it, never taking her eyes off Constanza. Amanda put an arm around Darius' shoulder, kissing him on his cheek. He momentarily ceased his sharpening, then continued.

Constanza paused, trying to come to grips with the emotional impact of what he was about to say. He then just went for it.

"They will end," he said.

There were gasps and exclamations from everyone. Rebecca looked terrified.

Skriiiitch...skriiiiitch...

"End? What does that mean?!?" Ritchie asked, anger in his voice.

"Their purpose will be complete," Constanza explained, looking perplexed.

"Balls to their purpose!" Fitz snarled, "What will be left of their lives?"

Constanza shrugged, "Their lives as they exist now? That will be over."

Duncan was out of his seat and in Constanza's face, "You tell the gods that's unacceptable. I won't accept it. They are children, for God's sake! It's NOT FAIR!!"

Constanza's face went stony, "What is fair, Duncan MacLeod? The destiny of these children involve the fate of the rest of the world. Their individual lives pale by comparison.

"All lives, all individual lives, all hang on that! But it's all those lives, and the moments that make them, that make up that picture, Constanza! You can't be dismissive of the lives of anyone, ANYONE, if that big picture is to be worth a DAMN!!" Duncan roared. He reached out to grab Constanza's collar. Duncan's hands passed right through him.

Constanza gazed at Duncan, who was raging, but a deep sadness had obviously overtaken him as well. Amanda wept. Anne comforted her. The men looked shaken. Fitz looked ready to break down.

Skriiiiitch...skriiiiiitch

Suddenly, they heard the door slam. Rebecca was gone, into the dark fury out doors.

"Damn..." Duncan swore. Everyone was up and heading into the dark. Except Darius.

Skriiiiitch...skriiiiiitch

Fitz looked at Constanza. The mysterious man looked neutral. Fitz looked down at Darius.

Skriiiiiitch...skriiiiiitch...

Darius looked up at Fitz, his expression unreadable.

Fitz swore, opened the door, and charged out into the storm.

The forest surged menacingly in the howling wind, looking like giants shaking their fists with each lighting flash. Fitz saw no one. But he found his bearings. He made his decision and charged forth. Eventually, he found himself in the clearing he had spent so much time with Rebecca as she grew up. He heard little girl laughter in his head...

"Fitz, why are leaves shaped like they are?"

"That's the way the good Lord made them, luv."

"Why?"

"Don't know, lass. The Lord is the one with the degree in botany, not me."

"Fitz, how long will you live?"

"Long enough to have all the fun I'm entitled to, lass, I hope."

"Fitz, am I pretty?"

"Yes, luv, you will break hearts one day, to be sure."

Yes, he was hearing her voice...

"Fitz...Fitz..."

"FITZ!!!! OVER HERE!!!"

He looked up out of his revere, and saw a shadow waving at him from a clutch of swaying trees. He ran up and the shadow grabbed him in a weeping hug. It took his hand and led him on...to a cave.

Inside, the shadow lit a flame. A lantern lit up the shadow. A disheveled, tear streaked Rebecca, somewhat wild eyed, looked at him intently.

"It's going to end, Fitz. It's not fair. It's NOT RIGHT! I WANT TO LIVE!"

Rebecca ran up and threw her arms around his neck. Strong arms that held tightly.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist, "Ah luv, I don't know what to say. Words aren't enough."

"Then don't say anything," Rebecca said, and kissed him. With nova like passion and fierceness. Her full bosom pressed against his chest, hardness on the peaks pressing into his torso.

"Wait a minute now!", Fitz said, grabbing her wrists and looking at her, hard, desperate, desirous. "Hold on! I gave an oath to Duncan..."

Her eyes were aflame. Her breath was heavy, "Fitz, I'm going to die soon. I don't have much life left. Please let me LIVE what I have left. PLEASE..."

She closed with him again, soft lips kissing his neck, cheeks and lips. Fingers found the fastenings on his clothes, and they began to come away. His lean, muscular body began to reveal itself.

His hands returned to her. They expertly began to seek her peaks and valleys. She sighed and her fervor increased. The heat began to climb.

'Duncan is going to kill me,' he sighed inwardly, as he leaned forward to take her.

Outside, the storm raged, the lightning flashed, the wind blew and the trees frenzied.

Inside the cave, cries...and sighs...


	43. Sadness and Foreboding

Under a blanket, against a pillow propped up against the caves stony walls, leaned the Immortal, Hugh Fitzcairn. Here he was, in the midst of cosmic events, raging about. And, despite himself...well, the story of his life repeats itself. Key plot points? One devastatingly charming, handsome, irresistible to women, son of the crown, finds himself beset by yet another female. And an angry father is expected to enter the picture at some point. Oh, the father in question doesn't know, not yet. But he will. That's how these things usually go.  
  
The funny thing? The father is a very close friend. This is uncommon, but not unique. The girl in question, he helped raise from childhood. Ok, that's a first. But the kicker? Time from birth to present, where said female was a physically mature woman? Two months, give or take.  
  
And the final spice? She doesn't have much time left, her or her brother.  
  
"Ah, this is a fine kettle of stew cooked up," he murmured to himself. The naked girl draped over his chest murmured softly and hugged him sleepily. He kissed her on top of the head, drinking in her fragrance.  
  
"Shouldn't be long now, luv," he said sadly.  
  
  
  
Duncan MacLeod surged through the forest, frantically calling for Rebecca. His companions had fanned out in pairs, also calling. No answer.   
  
"She shouldn't be out here. This shouldn't be happening," he said in frustration.  
  
Joe touched him on the shoulder, "That news would have been a shock for anyone. You can't blame yourself, Mac."  
  
"Oh yes, he can," Amanda seethed. "Please, Duncan, continue."  
  
Duncan whirled on Amanda, angry, "I was only doing what I thought was right!"  
  
Amanda roared," You thought! YOU THOUGHT! I don't think you REALLY thought this out at all, Duncan! You and your damn code! Hasn't it ever occurred to that dense Scottish mind of yours, that there are situations that will just not be covered by your code? That to be so rigid, would be to hurt more than help?!? WELL?!?"  
  
"It's all I've got," Duncan said, softly.  
  
"Look around you, idiot! It's clear that's NOT all you have. You have friends, you have family. People who need you, not your code!"  
  
"I have to go with what I know," Duncan said with stubborn determination.  
  
"Then you had better prove that cliché' about old dogs wrong, Duncan," Amanda said, her arms folded, chin high. "You are needed now, your love and compassion, not a rigid world view. Your daughter needs you. To hell with that cosmic crap."  
  
Duncan sighed and looked around. He looked at the others. They looked at him expectantly.  
  
He opened his mouth....  
  
"I know where she is," said a voice. The group turned and saw the face of Darius lit up by lightning. His blond hair was tossed about by the wind. His dark eyes took in the group expectantly.  
  
"Where is she, Darius?", Duncan asked.  
  
"Follow me," he said mysteriously, a strange smile on his face.  
  
They did. After a bit of walking through the storm tossed trees, lightning and lantern light revealed a cave. A light could be seen around bend within.  
  
The group entered, led by Darius and Duncan. And they saw...  
  
...a shirtless Fitz with an equally shirtless Rebecca hugging his chest. He saw the group, picked out Duncan, saw the rapid run of emotions spinning on the Highlander's face, like a wheel of fortune of moods, setting on rage.  
  
Amanda saw it, too, and rolled her eyes, her own anger surfacing again.  
  
Fitz stood up, a sheepish grin on his face, as Duncan slowly stalked towards him, "Steady on, lad...(to a wide eyed, frightened Rebecca, handing her the blanket, "Cover up, lass...") I seem to have misplaced my trousers. With the wind whipping up like that, you have to tie everything down...oh, bugger..."  
  
Duncan's fist connected with Fitz's jaw and he bounced back against the cave wall, but managed to steady himself. Fitz just stood there, and steeled himself for another blow. No defense offered, he just prepared to absorb the strike.

Methos, Ritchie and Joe were suddenly on Duncan. Amanda stood in front of him, and then a shrieking Rebecca was clutching him, pleading for him to stop hurting Fitz.

"It was MY IDEA! MINE! I WANTED IT!"

Duncan grabbed her forearms, not noticing her wince, and yelled, "It was NOT RIGHT!"

Amanda looked at Duncan and said, "She doesn't have much life left, Duncan. Do you expect her to spend her remaining moments as a nun?"

Duncan let go of a tearful Rebecca, and muttered, "Get dressed." He stalked out of the cave, passing a shadowed Darius.

Darius looked at the scene, and murmured "Sinners." He then vanished into the shadows.


	44. Meeting Destiny

A gray day greeted the immortals and mortals. The clouds were still gathered over the island, but no longer angry. Just sad. This reflected the mood of the gathered individuals. But some were trying to lighten things up, too. Richie was cheerfully loading items into the barge, which had been released from its stone cradle. Darius was helping, smiling, even laughing every now and then.

Methos carried some things himself, and watched Darius thoughtfully. Joe walked alongside. He watched Darius as well, then turned to Methos, "Wow, what brought that about?"

Methos pursed his lips and said, "I think...perhaps the inevitability of sweet release? Some loads are too heavy for some to carry, Joe."

"That's it?" Joe asked.

Methos paused, "Without more information...that's my story for now."

"Hm."

Inside the villa, it was a bit emptier, both materially, and emotionally. Duncan looked around. For a 'cage', this place had been downright pleasant. Now, that it was time to move on...

"I'll kind of miss this place," Anne said. "I mentioned that it would make a great getaway, but Constanza said to me, 'No, it wouldn't.' When I asked him what he meant, he said, 'It was made for a purpose. It's purpose is complete.' And that's that."

"I suspect he knows what he's talking about, as far as that goes," murmured Duncan absently.

He then turned to Anne and said, "I want to thank you again for enduring all of this with us. You didn't have to, but you did. I'm very grateful."  
  
"As I said, you are a good friend, Duncan. You needed me. So, here I am."

Duncan nodded and smiled, then continued, "I don't know how this is going to end, but it could get bad. You don't have to be along for the last part. When we get to England, I want you to head to Heathrow and don't look back..."

Anne started, then nodded, "You're right. My part's done. And I miss my family. And with what may be coming. Oh, there's a part of me that wants to see how this will end desperately. But...I want to get back to my family. Please, write to me, tell me how this wrapped up?"

"I promise," said Duncan firmly.

They then turned as Amanda entered the room, with a couple bags of clothes. "Duncan, could you be a dear?" she said, gesturing with the bags.

"Certainly," he bowed with a smile, and opened the door for her.

Amanda snorted, "Ha ha," and flounced through the door and headed for the barge.

Duncan looked out on the patio. Rebecca and Fitz sat at a stone table across from each other, a chess set between, a game well under way. Duncan moved away, to avoid hearing any part of their conversation.

Rebecca was composed, cheerful, but a wistfulness hung about her. On the board, Rebecca's position was advantaged.

"Getting tips from your cheering section, luv?" Fitz asked, surveying his position on the field.

"No, it's just me. I'm just good," Rebecca said with a wink. "They are quiet right now. Waiting. Oh, one of them just said she could use a cigarette. What does that mean?"  
  
Fitz smiled and leaned back, "Oh, that just something one says denoting deep satisfaction, post coitus."

"Oh," Rebecca said with a smile. She then looked at Fitz seriously. "Fitz, I'm..."

"Don't you dare say it, luv," he said, serious.

"I made you break your vow..."

"First off, lass, you didn't make me do ANYTHING. I wished to. Second, you needed it. Your situation overrode the vow. Third, that isn't the first vow I've broken in my life. But on those VERY RARE occasions I have broken a vow, I've always good reasons for it."

Rebecca cocked her head, narrowed her eyes, "Always?"

"Well, sometimes."

Gaze.

"Occasionally."

Gaze.

"Ok, I've been frivolous with vows in the past, but I wasn't with this one. Nor were my reasons to break them frivolous, my dear. You aren't just a piece of fluff, don't ever forget that. But the idea that you aren't long for this realm..."

Fitz stopped and looked down. After a moment, he continued, "Rebecca, you are deserving of what good things you can squeeze out of what little life you have left. And I am HONORED you consider me a part of that." He sighed and continued, "The wound between me and Duncan isn't nearly as deep as it appeared last night, and it will heal nicely in time. Of this, I am sure. But you, lass, will you be alright?"

"Fitz, my life has been full, and you are a huge part of the reason why. Of course I'll be alright. Oh...checkmate."

"What?...Bollocks."

Finally, the barge was loaded and everyone was aboard. Fitz untied the barge, while Richie pulled up the anchor and took the wheel. The barge slowly came about and made its way through the gap in the rock wall surrounding the lagoon.

Setting their course for the British Isles, the barge made it's way along the Med, heading for the Atlantic. As they made their way away from the island, they saw the grey clouds gathered about it. Constanza suggested that they continue watching.

They did. And they witnessed the clouds eventually parting. When the clouds vanished, the island was no more.

The ocean journey went quietly. Music, conversation and quiet contemplation was the norm. But the group welcomed the lull. For the coming unknown lurked on the horizon. And as they drew closer to England, they felt it. A surge. A charge.

Richie looked at Duncan, "I can feel you again. Holy cow, I just realized that."

Duncan looked at the other Immortals around, "So can I."  
  
Indeed, all the familiar Quickening sensations, they were there. And some new ones. Rebecca was like a bright chorus of voices shining forth. Darius? It was like a storm was raging in him. This alarmed Duncan. And Constanza? It was a feeling of conspicuous absence, rather than presence. Like he was a big ear for Quickening. Listening...

The Immortals looked around at each other, and at Rebecca, Darius and Constanza.

"What does this mean?" Duncan asked.

"The time is soon. When you arrive in England, please make your way to Stonehenge."

Constanza vanished.

"But..." said Duncan to the empty space Constanza occupied. He then looked at his companions. Amanda looked impatient. Anne, bewildered. Richie and Joe had "wha..?" expressions on their faces. Rebecca looked serious, but resolved, as did Fitz, who held her hand. Darius...unreadable.

Methos shrugged, "To Stonehenge, then. Salisbury isn't so bad this time of year."

At last, the rocky oceansides of the British Isles came in sight. Duncan had the wheel, and was talking with Joe.

"We've got Watchers out the yin yang in the UK. They've been following the migration of Immortals to the UK, and are completely bewildered about it. And nobody dueling? That has them thrown for a loop. That many immortals in that close space, and no one is fighting? They'll have questions for me after this is over, Mac."

"Well, Joe, you'll be able to answer them, as you'll have the front row seat. You'll be the one to make sure this part of the story is told."

"You got that right," Joe nodded.

"Can you get Anne to the airport?"

"You've got it. Agents will be standing by with an armored car. They'll see her all the way home," Joe confirmed.

"What about the rogues?" Duncan asked.

"They were there the day we got Amanda out of there, along with another faction we haven't identified. Fair bet they are in the area. They'll be looking for us, including Anne. Our agents will stay with her until this is over."

"Good." Duncan said.

And on a dockside, men in dark suits waited for Anne. She walked down the barge ramp, followed by Duncan, Amanda, Rebecca, and Joe. The others stood on the deck and watched her.

Amanda hugged and kissed Anne, as did Duncan and Rebecca.

Rebecca hugged her fiercely, crying. Anne wept a bit herself. She then turned and waved to Darius. He limply waved back and grimaced.

"Uh...thanx?" Amanda said, choking, "God, that sounds lame".  
  
"You're welcome," Anne said with a smile. She then turned to the silent men. Joe nodded at them. They surrounded her and escorted her to the black Bentley standing by. She then turned and waved to them through the window as the car sped away.

Joe was on his cell phone, nodding, he then hung up and looked at his friends, "She'll be alright."

Duncan nodded, and the group turned and boarded again.

Soon, the boat would dock. Soon, the remainder of the journey would be completed. Soon, the story would run its course.

Eyes were watching...


	45. Crusader No More

The group stood in the cobble stoned streets of Salisbury, England. On the way, they had felt a lot of Immortals, and even saw a few. And now, in Salisbury, they were near the eye of the storm, more ways than one. A couple were even there in the street. Duncan didn't recognize them, though one, a petite redhead female came running up to Richie.

"Rich!" she squealed. "Wow! Everyone's here! Least I think everyone's here. I haven't been doing this very long, I don't know..."

They hugged, and Richie said, "Well, ah...have I introduced you to Duncan? Duncan MacLeod? Paula West. She was a windsurfer who knocked herself out on her board. She...drowned."

"I got better," she said with a smile. "Wow, you won't believe the rumors going around, Rich," she said while shaking Duncan's hand, beaming at him. She then looked like she remembered something, "Or maybe, you would. Rich, what's going on here?"

"Let me ask you something first, Paula. Why are you here?"

Paula's gray eyes went distant. She said in a small voice, "I don't know...I just felt I had to come. I was scared, but I had to come. There are a lot of us here. Nobody knows what's going on, though."

She then noticed Rebecca and Darius for the first time. And could obviously tell they felt "strange". Darius glared back hard.

"Yeah, we don't, either," Richie said, truthfully. "Uh, got places to go. Talk to you later, Paula?"

"Sure..Rich," she said, tentatively backing away. "I'll see ya!" She smiled at Richie and trotted off.

"Huh," Richie muttered.

"Ok, low profile," Duncan said. "Let's get to our hotel room and stay there until...until its time."

Amanda looked thoughtful and said, "Before we do that, there's something we need to do first."

She led them to a nearby clothes shop and bought new duds for anyone who needed it. And then, they dropped by a local photography studio. The proprietor at first was reluctant, quoting a full schedule. But when Duncan flashed a certain bundle of Sterling, an opening made itself available.

The group took several portraits. One big group shot, individual shots of Rebecca and Darius, and finally, one of the family. Duncan smiled. Amanda and Rebecca beamed warmly. Darius glowered. But they were done. Duncan left an address to receive the photos, and hustled everyone out of the studio. They managed to find a hotel room near the cathedral. The 'Lion was almost as old as the cathedral, with foundation stones from the building that housed the workers who constructed the cathedral. Amanda sighed after making sure everyone was tucked in, and flounced on the bed.

"Civilization, I love it," she purred. "I can't get enough of it. I mean, it's Salisbury, but hey, I've always liked England. It's...England."

"Oh yeah, it's England, alright," Duncan grumbled.

"Oh pooh, that's just Scot prejudice talking," she pouted. "Relax. The family's together."

"But how long?" Duncan asked her.

"I don't know," Amanda said. "But can we enjoy this moment?"

Rebecca suddenly came running up to their doorway, looking very worried.  
  
"Darius is gone!" she exclaimed.

Night. Foggy London streets. A cloaked figure walked down the sidewalk and entered a tavern. Dim light and raucous laughter greeted his ears. There were Immortals present. And a couple sensed him, disturbed by the sensation. Good.

Ah, there was the one. Large, muscular man. Short, military haircut. A couple like him nearby, also Immortals. But he was the main concern. His name?

"Stephen Roberts."

Stephan Roberts turned to see this cloaked figure standing at his elbow. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the figure. A strange, disturbing sensation came from him.

"You in town for the show, fella?" Roberts asked. "You know what I mean?"

"Yes, I do know what you mean, and yes, I'm in for the show. You might say I'm one of the stars."

"What the hell does that mean?" Roberts asked.

"Let me show you," Darius said. His hand then shot out and grabbed Roberts' forehead. Memories forcefully replayed in his head, including one that showed Duncan MacLeod being taken down by gunfire on a Parisian street. Earlier memories played out, over centuries of time.

Darius let go, looking shaken. Roberts was stunned, then recovered himself. The men next to him were up and moving towards Darius.  
  
"Stand down!" Roberts snarled. "You are attracting too much attention."

He then turned back to Darius and said, "I don't know who you are or how you did that, or how you know what you know. But this ain't amusing anymore. What do you want?"

"Your head, if you don't mind," Darius said, with a cold smile.

"I don't fancy I do, if you can take it," Roberts said. "After you, stripling."

Darius and Roberts stepped into a nearby alley. Roberts had a modern, well-machined long sword. Darius pulled out his bastard sword. Roberts squinted at it.

"Fine blade, lad. Looks like one from back in my day. What antique shop did you buy that from?" Roberts chuckled.

Darius snarled and charged at Roberts. Swords clashed, clanged, sparked and rebounded.

"Not bad," Roberts nodded. "You've had training. Try this one."

A vigorous exchange of blows then, with mostly Darius frantically parrying.

"Ok, lad, last chance. Are you sure you won't give up this fool's errand? You know we can't get each other's Quickening right now, for some reason. No? Very well..."

Roberts silently leaped forward in a low thrust, which transformed into a high slash. Darius suddenly lost his sword as his arm went limp with pain.

Roberts kicked him in the chest and he went down. The old warrior stood over Darius, sword semi raised.

"Gave you a chance, lad. That's more than most get in this Game, but oh well..." his sword went up.

'You will soon give up your soul to Allah, dark one,' said a voice. Darius turned. In the inner turmoil, an Arab manifested himself. In silk, modestly jeweled, festooned like a warrior. A scimitar hung at his side.

'That droog you are facing. I know him. I faced him and his fellow invaders a long time ago. He didn't fight with honor. I wish to return the favor.'

'And if I don't let you?' Darius asked.

'Then, I say it's over for you. Pity,' said the warrior, eyes flashing. 'But if you do allow me this boon, then by Allah, he shall trouble you no more.'

Darius nodded.  
  
The man smiled, as did Darius, on the ground in the alley. A sword plunged down. Darius dodged, then kicked up, catching Roberts in the jewels. Roberts yelped and fell back.

Darius picked up the sword he had dropped and looked at it with distaste. "Ah, English blades. I must fight with this? Ah well..." And on he came, blade flashing.

Roberts desperately parried, inexplicably on the defensive.

"Bloody hell, how..?"

"Oh, I ask forgiveness, Sir Stephen, I realize you still think you are fighting the stripling. Understandable. Perhaps you remember Samir Ibin? Warrior for Allah?"

Roberts squinted, then exclaimed, "I had you beheaded! I didn't want your filthy Quickening! How..?"

"I really do not know. But now, I face you again, and will find I'm not quite so fussy."

Roberts growled, "Then let us get it done."

Samir and Roberts roared, blades singing out. No quarter was given, or expected.

Suddenly, shots rang out and Darius/Samir went down.

Two men with guns emerged from behind wall corners.

"What took you?" he muttered to them.

He kneeled down and looked at Darius and said, "This is over, lad. I don't know what other tricks you have, but I'm bored with this. It's time to end it."

Suddenly, the two gunmen went flying and slammed hard into the building across the street. They lay still.

Darius was standing again.

"This was not to be your day," said Samir, "I suppose your dishonorable tacticts have caught up with you."

Roberts lunged at Samir. Their swords crossed. Clanged. Rang. Plunged. Lunged. Slashed...

And suddenly, Roberts was lacking head.

The Quickening storm, a potent one, built. But when it tried to vanish, Darius reached out, took it, and pulled. It became one with him.

Darius was then returned to himself.

He shuddered and looked down at the body below him. After a moment, he looked at the figures across the street. They began to stir.

Darius ran to them, his blade at the ready.

There was more lightning, then darkness...


	46. The Celestial Sword

Duncan rousted everyone and was prepared for a house to house search of the town, when two things stopped him. First, Constanza appeared, wearing an expression he had never seen on the enigmatic being's face before.

He was worried. He said one thing, "I can't find him." He vanished again.

"Wonderful," Duncan sighed. He looked at Amanda. She looked back, helpless. Everyone else looked at a loss. Except Joe. He was on his phone. And Rebecca. She looked at something beyond the walls.

Both of them looked at the others at the same time.

"He's gone to London!"

Darius had no idea what drove him. Sir Stephen Roberts? A dirty fighting hypocrite "Crusader", who gunned down Immortals, who had gunned down his father, Duncan, who would have gunned down his mother, Amanda, had he had a chance? Yes, he deserved to die. These other Immortals he had slain? Challenges. He wanted experience, adventure. He was getting it now. And all of them, there was something dark, sinful, wrong. They all deserved to pay. But this one? He surged with power and the aura of the ancient. He was a rare Immortal, not to be trifled with. In fact, the closest he had felt like this one, was...Methos. But though he could detect power...confidence...this one, though quite the warrior, was just. Why he must he die?

A frightening voice inside, one he had heard fragments of, now roared loudly. Clearly. Screamed the name of the Immortal in front of him...

This one was named...

"Tolan. Young man, is there any particular reason why you wish to duel me? Here?" the tall, dark skinned, bald Immortal said casually, gesturing around the scrapyard to which they retreated. "I have no idea who you are. Further, we can't claim each other's Quickening. Why waste each other's time? We are called here. We must wait for that purpose to unfold."

Darius put on the fedora Amanda had given him and said, "I know my purpose. Wrongdoers hide themselves in power. Immortals are powerful. But not all powerful..."

Wince.

"I'm here to balance the equation."

Tolan looked at him quizzically, "Lad, are you alright?"

"No," Darius answered. And then, his sword was in his hand, blazing with Quickening. "I'm not alright."

And he was on Tolan. Sword swift, sure...

Tolan responded with experience, skillfully, forcefully parrying Darius' incoming blows. Darius let loose a flurry of slashes, varying their angles, then a thrust, abdomen level. Tolan riposted, then drove Darius back with a set of skillful attacks. He still tried to make sense of the being that faced him. Face of youth. Of course, among Immortals, that meant nothing. Skilled, but inexperienced fighting style. More indicative. But his aura? Very powerful, but unlike anything he had felt before.

But there was something...what was it?

Darius came at him yet again, and Tolan upped the ante. Thousands of years of history passed before him. He had encountered many Immortals in his existence. And of those he had killed, he had tried to make sure his reasons were just. But every now and then, well, there can be only one, right? But he had tried. He had faced situations that risked his Immortal life, even his soul. Because there were few others who could. And he had managed to triumph. He had even faced other menaces, dark, dangerous. He remembered one. When he and a few other Ancients came together, one night in the Coliseum, 10th century Rome, in the ruins...why had he just thought of that? That night, that awful night.

But this strange one before him...he seemed powerful, but unfocused. Time to end this...

Slash, feint, THRUST...connect!

Bleeding profusely from the stomach, Darius fell onto his back. He coughed up blood, his breath ragged.

Tolan summoned up his deep reservoir of Quickening, lifted a car behind him, and dropped it on Darius, hard. Only his head was exposed.

Tolan stood over him, pity welling up. But he coated it with a cold, hard shell.

"Well," he said, "I warned you. Do you really wish it to end here?"

"No..no...," Darius coughed.

"Neither do I," Tolan said softly. He made ready to move the car.

"No...no...", Darius moaned. Suddenly he screamed, "NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

"Lad, what's the matter?" Tolan asked. Then he sensed...his eyes went wide, and he moved quickly to remove Darius' head. The car suddenly rocketed from the ground, as if fired from a cannon. Tolan was knocked to the ground. He shook his head and looked.

Darius was up. His eyes blazed with white energy, and he was surrounded by black, oh so black.  
  
"Goddess," he swore. He gripped his blade and stood.

"Yes, she speaks," Darius said in a voice no longer his own. "And she dubs thee unworthy."

"We banished your foul essence from the Earth long ago," Tolan breathed.

"Well, those who were unclaimed have been recalled. We are back in the Game. And I'm making it my Game," not-Darius sneered. "My rules."

Tolan attacked. He fought. He died well.

The Quickening died quickly, absorbed by an insatiable hunger.

The being chuckled, sparks playing between Darius' fingers. He looked around and whispered, "So much sin, so little time."

Night. London. Duncan and his companions stood outside a restaurant. The police had it cordoned off. The local press was there, and overheard snatches sounded like both law enforcement and reporters were calling it "terrorism".

Rebecca stood there, eyes wide, staring at the wreckage, tears streaming down her face. "They were here," she said, deep fear, despair in her voice. "Darius is frightened. He can't stop him!"

"Who?" Duncan asked. Amanda hugged him and Fitz held Rebecca. Richie looked helpless. Methos looked distracted. And worried.

Joe took a note from a man who came up to him. The man looked at the Immortals and then quickly vanished. Joe looked at the note, taking note of the sketch included. He sighed, then swore softly.

Methos hesitantly reached for the note, then looked at the sketch. It was of a flaming sword, primitive, as if done by Stone Age cave painters.

"It was in blood," Joe said darkly.

"I know," Methos said, "Some ghosts are best left buried. I knew this 'Quickening recovery' business would have a bad side."

"What is it?" Duncan asked. Methos turned and saw the faces turned to him. Expectant. Dreading. They should.

"Arphael. The Celestial Sword. He has Darius."


	47. Watching the Darkness

Stonehenge. A team of Watchers kept an eye on the gathered Immortals loitering in and around the ancient monument. Why had they migrated here? Based on all available information, the Immortals themselves didn't know. They just felt compelled to come here. There hadn't been a Quickening taken in a little over two months. And they weren't fighting. There had been discussion, arguments, and even a couple of shouting matches, but no swords had come out. That many Immortals, that much history, that many grudges, and no swords? It was just too weird.

A lot of them had been camping here, or staying in nearby Salisbury. And on this early morning, the town itself had been cleared of Immortals. All who were in England, as far as they could tell, were here. And though Immortals are a tiny part of the world's population, seeing all these gathered here was intimidating. How it was escaping the sight of ordinary mortals, the Watchers had no idea.

Graham Henton, a relatively new agent, was thrilled with being a Watcher. As much as he had been enjoying his relatively new career as an archaeologist. He would have been happy to dig up ancient pottery for the rest of his life, but living history? How could he have turned that down?

His partner, Ginger Gant, wasn't nearly so enthusiastic. As a former sergeant in the US Army's military police, what Graham saw as fascinating, she saw as trouble.

"Front row of history, Ginger. Immortal history, think about it!", Grant enthused.

"Yeah. That's what the brochure said," Ginger grumbled, flipping a blond lock out of her hair.

"How can you be worried?" Grant asked. "It's quiet. And besides, Stonehenge is Holy Ground. Even if they were inclined to fight, it wouldn't be allowed."

"Who wouldn't allow it?" Ginger asked, looking at Grant.

"Um...not sure about the answer to that one," Grant admitted, "You know, rumors, legends, unsubstantiated accounts..."

"Great. More unknowns," Ginger said, looking back through her binoculars.

"It's why we do what we do," Grant said with a smile.

"I was pulled in by the free encyclopedias, myself," Ginger said absently. "I'm just waiting for the crap to hit the fan. That rampaging whatever? Bet you it's heading this way..."

Then, her cell phone rang.

"Gant. Uh huh. Yeah. Great. Head down, gotcha."

She hung up the phone and put it away, exhaling.  
  
"What is it?" Grant asked her.

"Bad mojo," Ginger said, "Have you studied the case of Arphael?"

"What little we have on him. He's mostly a myth. Like Methos. No one has ever seen him."

"Well, what I have read certainly is good for scaring the kids before you put them to bed," Ginger said ominously. "I mean, we know about the nastier ones. Like Xavier St Cloud, The Kurgan, Kalas, who's down there right now..."

"Kell?" Grant offered.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ginger snorted. "He's a wuss with a reverse Oedipus complex. Anyway, Arphael, if the story is to be believed, is one of the OLDEST. Rumor has it, he was there at the world's creation. He touched...God. And when mortals screwed up, Immortals shared their curse. It drove him insane. He spent the centuries seeking to weed the stain of sin out of creation, specializing in Immortals. He stalked and killed those he deemed unworthy. He is said to have vanished around the 10th century."

Grant looked at Ginger, "So...why are you mentioning him now?"

Ginger said, "He's said to be responsible for the recent spat of Immortal killings and mass murders here in England. And he may be on the way here."

A chill went thru Grant. He and Ginger exchanged glances. They watched. Very carefully.

A dark gray sky sky loomed overhead. A chill wind blew thru the hills, seeming to reach into the souls of all present....

Rome, Italy, 10th century. Methos held his cloak close to him and looked up at the dark gray sky. He looked across to Tolan. Tolan's expression read resolve. Tolan was the classic warrior poet, who looked at history as one huge story. And this was just a tragic chapter closing.

Hopefully.

He then looked over at Maria. Her dark, straight hair fluttered in the chill air. Her dark eyes were red from tears. Lover of Arphael? What was that like? How do you become the lover of a man, a thing, who doesn't even seem to know love, only condemnation? How do you love a mass murderer? Yes, Maria claimed that's not all there was to Arphael. He was supposedly a very perceptive Immortal, with a supernatural ability to read someone's soul. But, for some reason, he locked onto the dark things all people, mortal and Immortal, carried with them.

Maria claimed he was not always like that. That he had a unique ability to see beauty in all things and helped bring it about.

Was Arphael a casebook example of idealism gone tragically wrong? Was he what happened when you saw perfect beauty? Paradise? God? And had it snatched away?

That was the rumor.

Methos was one of the oldest. But here he was, with two Immortals considerably older and more powerful than he was. And Arphael? Whatever he was millennia past, he was now a monster, and he had to be dealt with. Immortal bodies stacking up like firewood, lives drained.

Yes, there was the Game, and Immortals killing Immortals was how it was played. But an insane Immortal trying to recreate Paradise by killing sin? And with the power to do it, at least the Immortal elimination part?

He had to be stopped.

So here he was, youngest among the gathered Ancients. They awaited the abomination known as Arphael.

And they had a surprise. Tolan had found it...someplace. He had never told the tale. But it appeared to be a small stone carving of Celtic make. Looping graceful knot. It would serve to accomplish what they had in mind. They hoped.

Then, they felt it. It was as if worms were crawling into every bodily orifice, then deep into their inner being, into their souls. It was the feeling of Violation made manifest. Dark Quickening at the most twisted.

Then thru one of the archways onto the Coliseum floor strode Arphael. A dark halo hung about him, and his eyes glowed white. A gleaming sword hung at an angle from one hand.

"Ah, Tolan, this is priceless. This is our stage?", he gestured about the ruined amphitheatre where so much blood had been spilt in the past. "You need to get out of the headhunting business and become a playwright, my friend."  
  
He looked over at Methos, "Death?", he guffawed. "Pretentious title in your petty little gang of Ruffians. I will be coming for them, too. I trust you told them?"

"Kronos and I aren't on speaking terms at present," Methos said. "Besides, surprises amuse him."

"They are the spice of life, aren't they?", Arphael said, "But truthfully, why should you be surprised by death? They are the wages of sin, and you Four Horsemen are bad boys indeed."

He finally looked at Maria, "Delilah...if only your betrayal was that simple. You will find my strength is not so easily taken."

"Let's find out," Tolan said. He attacked.

Shining blades rang out, as they had in this place over the centuries. Swirls of power blazed between the two Immortals as they clashed. Tolan's face was a mask of determination, while Arphael smiled, laughing at every knick and cut he managed upon the warrior in front of him, laughing even more at the ones he received.

Hours seemed to pass as the two powerful fighters glowed, their Quickening auras fairly blazing. Tolan's shined, while Arphael's was a dark shine, seemingly eclipsing Tolan's. Except for the eyes. The eyes.

Tolan's back was to Methos. Then Arphael's sword suddenly appeared through it. He fell to the ground.

Arphael chuckled. "Your sin, your pride, has found you out, Tolan. I now cleanse you of this sin-disease. Your existence is over. You're welcome, by the way."

The sword never landed. Methos groaned under the impact, but he and his sword held. His dark eyes looked into the blazing white ones of Arphael.  
  
"Take it from one who knows, you take too long to take advantage of opportunity, it will get taken from you," Methos said with a grimace. He disengaged and thrust at Arphael's abdomen. Arphael blocked and slashed. Incredible power, Methos could feel the Dark Quickening assaulting his being. And a voice seemed to point an accusatory finger, outraged at why he would fight so hard for life, when he clearly wasn't worthy.

No, he wasn't worthy. But you know? Methos was fine with that. He fought on. Until a slash across his lower abdomen laid him low. He lay on the tiles of the arena floor in the dust, feeling the wound already knit together. He braced himself for the expected impact. But it was intercepted by Tolan. Tolan wasn't at his best, but his warrior spirit silently charged forth. He even fought on when Arphael put his blade thru the old warrior's chest. But it would have been the end, had Methos, ever the opportunist, not come up behind Arphael and taken his head off.

From Arphael's neck came an inky blackness. It aimed itself for Methos, like hands reaching out for him. It touched him. He saw the Four Horsemen, remembered their deeds. He saw Kronos looking at him, "You've only forgotten yourself temporarily, brother. This will bring you back to yourself. And I will be waiting for you."

"NO!", shouted Maria. "His soul is not yours to claim!" Was she talking to Arphael, or himself, Methos wondered? "Arphael, for the love that was once ours, I'm joining you..."

She held the stone carving, and a glow came from her. It enveloped her, and then the glow enveloped the dark mass of force that reached for Methos.

Methos opened his eyes. Tolan sat next to him, a sadness radiating from him. Arphael's decapitated corpse laid on the arena floor in front of them. The stone carving had vanished. So had Maria...

'Poor Maria', Methos thought. "Was your sacrifice wasted?" He watched the terrain race by as the two taxis took the group back to Salisbury. Stonehenge was where Darius was returning, Rebecca was sure.  
  
The grand finale was coming up. At least as interesting a set as the Coliseum, to be sure...


	48. Enter Connor

Ginger napped while Grant continued his observations. The past several hours had been just as quiet as the time previously, but he had noticed something. The Immortals below had begun stirring. Had become restless. They were like the animals of a forest, agitated at the coming of a storm. They looked about, and were noticeably irritable. One had even thrown a punch at another. Or at least, he began to. But he had stopped. And it wasn't clear why. The other Immortals moved away, acting perfectly peaceful.

"What are they waiting for?" Grant asked himself.

"Oh, just me," said a sinister voice behind him. Grant whirled and Ginger was up. They stared at the man behind them. He was a young man, maybe 18 at the oldest, at least, physically. But there was something about him, something. It was like being in the presence of a bottomless pit. It was the Abyss, and it stared back at him.

"Who are you?" Ginger asked, getting up, a hand absently heading for her firearm.

"Hm...that's a more interesting question than you know," the young appearing man answered. Wild, unruly golden blond hair billowed in the chilled breeze. Dark eyes regarded Grant thoughtfully.

"Watchers. You watch secret history. They say those who don't remember history are doomed to repeat it. All the sorrows. All the mistakes. You custodians of history, you aren't doing a very good job," he said with disdain.

"She asked who you are, sir," Grant said.

"I'm the one who does what you will not," the man said. His eyes glowed white, and a dark halo seemed to manifest. He looked over at Ginger, and where her gun was. He looked smiled at her and asked, "Wouldn't that count as interfering?"

He tipped his fedora to her and proceeded to walk towards the monument and the gathered Immortals.

"Excuse me! Sir!" Grant shouted, "What..."

Arphael looked over his shoulder, "No more talk, sir. Watch."

Arphael walked onwards. The Immortals in the circle saw Arphael coming, and looked at him with varying degrees of curiosity. Then, they made the connection with the unwholesome sensation they felt earlier, and realized it was growing stronger. Their curiosity turned to concern, alarm, and for some, eagerness. Some began walking towards the perimeter of the Stonehenge grounds.

Arphael smiled at the sight of the warriors coming towards him and drew his sword. His dark aura blazed. Some of the oncoming Immortals blanched, and one stopped his approach. The others came on. And they stopped at the edge of Holy Ground.

"Your courage fails you? Disappointing," Arphael mocked. "Fighters, some of you with countless centuries of experience and accumulated power. Why cower behind Holy Ground?"

Carl Robinson brandished his custom broadsword and squinted at Arphael. "We can't take Quickening at this time. And we have been called here. Why do you seek to challenge us, stranger?"

"Why not?" Arphael said. "Oh, I know, different body, but my purpose remains the same. None of you would know me, anyway, I don't think. Except one, and he isn't here. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Arphael." He paused to let that sink in.

"Yes, dying Immortals, that was me. You heard about that, I trust?"

The Immortals stirred and looked at him with degrees of hardness, discomfort and fear.

"The inability to take Quickening? Well, I've a way around it. So, if you would just step up please? Let the cleansing begin..." Lightning flashed in the sky.

"No, Darius," said a voice. Constanza appeared next to Darius. "This has to stop."

The gathered Immortals watched this with keen interest. They were sure it had something to do with them, with the Game, but they had no idea what. They listened. They observed. They watched the odd conversation between the strange feeling Constanza and the dark nightmare that was the legendary Arphael. Or so it was said. But, whatever it was, they had never felt anything like him. And they were filled with trepidation. For whatever the outcome of what was to happen today, they were certain things would be changed when it all was said and done.

"Constanza, you are easily the most INEPT deity representative I have ever met in my long years," Arphael said with a laugh. "And believe me, I've known a few. Yes, I know you have that intangibility thing," he waved his sword through Constanza a few times, "...which just serves as a physical reminder of your inability to affect this world."

"That is not my purpose," Constanza said.

"Yes, your purpose is to be the lapdog of the higher powers who have created the Game. Go where they tell you. Do what they tell you. No life of your own. No passion. No desire. No will, to speak of. What a long, sad life you have led. Centuries waiting...for what?"

"For my purpose to be fulfilled," Constanza said calmly.

"And that will mean your end. How does that make you feel?", Arphael said with a sneer.

Constanza said, "All things end. The end is just a new beginning. Maybe even for me."

"Is that the sound of faith?" Arphael asked arrogantly.

"Experience," Constanza said calmly. "Release him, Arphael. You have no right to do what you have done to Darius."

"I have EVERY RIGHT!" Arphael roared. "I have been chosen of God to correct a wrong that extends from creation. And if that means an alteration of the plan of the powers that be, well...we are working for the same bosses, right?"

"No, I don't think so," Constanza said. "I speak of purpose, of mission. What you speak of is ambition, warped and contaminated through intense heartbreak and disappointment, magnified through the lense of eons of time. But your time is over, at least on this vale. Let it go, Arphael. Move on. Let Darius go."

"No," Arphael said softly. He then turned to Constanza and said, "I know who you work for. You tempt me with soft words veiled in false reason, but you speak the words of the One who would destroy Creation, rather than purify it!"

Constanza sighed and said, "Put your sword down, Darius."

"Do NOT say that name AGAIN!", Arphael roared. He whirled on the Immortals and screamed, "COWARDS! DO NONE OF YOU HAVE THE COURAGE TO FACE ME?!?"

"You have no need to face anyone," a strange voice said. "That sword is getting heavy. You really want to put it down, maybe take a nap."

A tall, sandy brown wavy haired, tanned woman stepped out of the ranks of Immortals. Her light eyes locked in on the glowing ones of Arphael.

"This fight is pointless. And you hear the wisdom of the one encouraging you to let go. Let go..." said Cassandra, walking towards Darius, hands empty.

Arphael looked lost for a second, weary, "Yes, the centuries of cleansing, more of waiting, have been long. It's time...it's time...to take your pretty head!"

He swung on Cassandra. She dodged the first one, caught the second one, and went down, spitting blood, her breath rattling. The Immortal witch stared at the dark haloed bellowing man above her, poised.

"I don't think so," a voice rasped, familiar to Cassandra and many of the other Immortals present. "You will be claiming no lives today."

He looked at Cassandra, "Nice trick. Does it ever work?"

Cassandra wince, "Sometimes. It can be touch and go."

Arphael turned to meet the stranger. He saw a wiry, strong, confident Immortal with dark eyes and sandy blond hair. His accent was odd, not quite fitting anyplace.

"Who are you?" Arphael asked the Immortal as he stepped out of Holy Ground.

"I am Connor MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod."

Arphael started, then began laughing, "Oh, this is RICH! The other MacLeod, the less rigid one. Well, you'll need that flexible trait, if you plan on stopping me, Connor."

"Why would that be?" Connor asked, his dragon katana poised.

"Why, Connor, I'm your earnest cousin's SON!"

Arphael's chilling laughter rang out...


	49. Sharing the Burden

Connor narrowed his eyes and regarded Darius thoughtfully. "Immortals can't have children," he said. But there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Cassandra looked startled, as did many of the other Immortals gathered.

"Oh yes, Immortals can't know the joys and pains of childbirth, one of the joys and pains of mortaliy denied them," Darius chuckled, "But as always, there are exceptions. Come on, Constanza, lectures are your stock in trade. Enlighten these poor souls."

Constanza looked at the crowd of Immortals. They all looked on with degrees of curiousity, expectancy, impatience and irritation. He began...

"As you all probably know, no one can claim Quickening for now. The Powers that control the Game have put it on hold for this. You all have been drawn here for this stage to be completed. All the Quickening that has gone unclaimed throughout history, it is about to be reintroduced to the Game. The Powers judged that the best way to do it was through vessels born of an Immortal female."

An Immortal, standing close to the edge of the boundary of Stonehenge's Holy Ground, scratched his head and asked, "Who was picked to bear these children, if I understand you correctly?"

"Amanda, who is with Duncan MacLeod right now," Constanza said.

"Amanda?" many of the Immortals exclaimed incredulously. There were many chuckles and titters from the throng, along with a generous helping of elbow nudges and winks.

"Why Amanda?" Cassandra asked.

"Because, personal flaws not withstanding, she is uniquely resourceful and adaptable to unforeseen circumstances among Immortal women. And, her circle of friends provided the necessary resources to see her through this ordeal. Duncan MacLeod was instrumental in this, as were others," Constanza said.

"And I'm the RESULT!" Arphael crowed. "This plan of the Powers was ineptly executed, and now, you will pay the price. Existence is flawed. I'm the Whiteout of Creation!"

Constanza said calmly, "You are the unfortunate side effect of a divine plan. But the plan will be fulfilled, nonetheless. You, who would presume to torment and terrorize an innocent boy, your reckoning will soon be at hand. The Powers will not be denied. And the Game awaits."

"Is that so?" Arphael sneered. "And who will bring about this unrequited justice? You?!?" he shouted, whirling on Constanza.

"Or YOU?!" he shouted, turning his burning eyes on Connor, "I'm the unclean spirit who has claimed the soul of your cousin's son. Surely, if anyone here has the incentive to try for my head, it's you..?"

"You're right," Connor said. "I do." He raised he sword and stepped forward. As did a phalanx of other Immortals, weapons presented.

"One of me against...the lot of you?", Arphael said, smirking, "Isn't that against the 'rules'?"

"It seems to me the rules don't apply here," Connor rumbled, his dark eyes on Arphael's blazing ones.

Arphael smiled, his dark halo gathering about him, his eyes blazing even brighter,

"You are so right," he said, and gestured. A cluster of squirming Immortals suddenly floated through the air towards Arphael. They shouted and moved to block the incoming blade that took their heads. They failed. Their heads fell. And their fleeing Quickening was drawn out of the air, taken into Arphael. He breathed in, then looked at another cluster of Immortals. Their expressions of horror and consternation were understandable.

"Next?", he said sweetly, gesturing with one hand. Another cluster of Immortals, with Connor leading the charge, didn't wait for him to exert his power. Blades drawn, they engaged Arphael. Blades clanged. Battle cries rang forth. Power sparked. Arphael's aura surged He whirled under the oncoming blades, lining up the Immortal warriors. And heads were sundered. Connor engaged Arphael's blade, sweat beading on his forehead. His sword trembled. His determined eyes locked with Arphael's mad ones.

"This is completely unnecessary!", Constanza exclaimed. "This waste...this violence..."

Arphael faux pouted, turning to Constanza, though his blade remained engaged with Connor's, "The work is necessary...and besides...it's fun!"

Constanza addressed the Immortals, "You can't beat him. He will take your head and your Quickening. The only way this can be stopped, is fulfilling the plan!"

Connor pulled his sword away from Arphael's and looked at Constanza, "This...abomination...if what you say is true...has possession of Darius, what do we do?"

"Get inside Holy Ground. All of you," Constanza said.

Never taking his eyes off Arphael, Connor followed the other Immortals behind the boundaries marking the consecrated ground of Stonehenge.

"Cowards," Darius breathed, "You call yourselves warriors."

"Yes, we are, many of us," Connor said. "But all of us, whatever else we are, we are Immortal. We have lived many lives, seen many things. Including the likes of you."

"Pretend Messiahs with cures for what ails the world," Cassandra spat, "But you are a vampire. A parasite."

"Oh, not a vampire. Don't associate me with those fell dwellers in darkness," Arphael said, sounding hurt.

"Prove it," Constanza said. "Prove to those present you are no vampire, and the rules don't apply to you."

Arphael turned to Constanza, obviously intrigued, "How, pray tell."

Constanza actually smiled a little. "Step onto Holy Ground. Take a head."

Arphael darkened, then smiled a predator's grin, "Capital suggestion."

He took a step forward, and crossed the threshold. The collected Immortals backed away.

Darius stopped and chuckled, "This is Holy Ground. Surely, the Powers rule here? You are safe from each other. You are safe from me. That's the theory, anyway. I wish to test it. Who wants to help investigate a mystery? Connor, your cousin will be claimed soon enough, let's make Immortal history, shall we?"

He raised his sword and prepared to charge Connor, when suddenly the clouds reached down, a grey misty wall surrounding the boundaries of consecration around Holy Ground. It was if they had become their own universe.

Arphael/Darius looked around in alarm, then turned a feral gaze upon Constanza, who appeared expressionless next to Arphael. "Did you arrange this?" Arphael asked, attempting to sound casual, but the concern in his voice could be heard.

Constanza said nothing. He just looked at Arphael with something akin to pity.

Cassandra asked Arphael, "Have you ever considered the fact that NONE of us ever break the rule of no combat on Holy Ground? Have you ever wondered why that is? And please, spare us your 'Messiah returned' nonsense."

Something seemed to be growing inside Arphael. Something was emerging. A realization was dawning. His expression became akin to that of a trapped animal.

He breathed "No...", whirled and strode for the misty grey barrier. And was stopped. And he saw, standing among the gathered throng, a familiar face. A voice shouted out deep inside, straining against it's soul cage. But the heartfelt cry from deep inside could not be denied. The cry, despite his best efforts, would not be denied.

"REBECCA!"

And that was not all. Arphael felt HER. The one he had loved, the one who had condemned him to his consignment in Limbo. The one who had kept him from his mission. The one who had betrayed him. He looked at Rebecca. Darius rejoiced at the sight of his sister. Arphael quailed at the dark haired, dark eyed faced that gazed at him sadly from within Rebecca. She seemed to reach out to him...

"NO...," he snarled. He felt Darius looking at Duncan, his adopted father. He saw Duncan warring with his dueling instincts of being nurturer and protector, his frustration at there being actions seemingly available to him. He felt Darius reach out to Amanda. Amanda, so not a mother, yet became one despite herself. Amanda looked at him, radiating sadness, helplessness, horror...and love. From Richie, he felt guilt, deep guilt. From Joe, horror, empathy for for his friends' ordeal and a strong desire to help where he can, and to see this to it's conclusion, in all it's detail. Fitz seemed to share a level of Richie's guilt, wondering if there was something he could have done to help prevent this disaster. And from Methos, RECOGNITION.

"Old friend, come to join Tolan in his long deserved repose?" Arphael sneered.

"Let him go, Arphael," Methos said, "This sad play you're insisting on performing has gotten quite dull. Tolan was the artistic of our group of geriatrics. You achieved drama queen, at best."

"Oh, apathy is EASY, Methos. Cynicism is a dodge. Immortality, eternity, is easy when you don't give a damn about anything and anybody."

"You're wrong," Methos said, without much confidence.

"Am I?", Arphael asked with a laugh. "Prove me wrong then." He kneeled down and bowed his head. "End this now and set the Game back on course. Take my head."

Methos didn't move. Richie did, his sword drawing from his scabbard.

"My big brother...doing the right thing?", Arphael asked, his voice sound childlike.

Duncan grabbed Richie's shoulder and said, "No. He was my responsibility. I should do it." He stepped forward, dragon katana in his hand.

Arphael's face seemed to contort, and the dark halo faded, as did the glow in his eyes. "The concerned father, disappointed in his son, looking to make amends to the world for his neglect?"

Duncan stepped up and looked down at Darius sadly. He raised his sword, "I'm sorry, son..."

Amanda reached out and mouthed a soundless protest, and stepped forward, as if to halt the coming downward plunge.

"FATHER, STOP!"

Rebecca walked up to the two of them, "Father...you can't do that." Her eyes pleaded with him.

"Rebecca, this has to stop. He's my son. This HAS to end."

"He's my brother. But Darius isn't the reason for this, Father. It's him."

She touched Duncan, then gestured at Darius. And Duncan saw a dark haired man with long dark locks, very light blue eyes. He looked haunted, tortured. And he felt ANCIENT. And sad, oh so sad, the sadness only known by those who know a FINAL rejection.

Constanza said, "Arphael must be released, and his Quickening must be accepted."

Duncan said solemnly, "I'll accept it."

The others looked at him, shocked. Methos said, "Duncan...you are insane. Or you will be, if you take on that much Dark Quickening."

Arphael smiled, "Yes, to save the Game, one of you must sacrifice your soul. You, Father?"

Duncan grimaced, but said, "If that's what it takes to save my son."

"Duncan, your son can't be saved. Don't you know? Your children will not make it through this," Arphael said, sounding almost sorrowful himself.

"I know," Duncan said steadily, "But I'm doing what I can."

Duncan stepped forward and kneeled down, looking at Arphael. Then, Amanda joined him, taking his hand. Methos and Ritchie joined him at the other. Then Fitz stepped up with Rebecca. Rebecca's face was set with resolve, and with a sense of peace.

"Arphael's Quickening must be taken, but it doesn't have to be one of you," she said. She paused, as if listening to something. "All of can become vessels for his essence. Share the burden, and it won't overwhelm you."

Amanda hugged Duncan. Methos bowed his head and Ritchie nodded. Fitz looked steadily at Rebecca and said, "Lead on, luv."

Rebecca closed her eyes and then began speaking in a completely different voice, ancient sounding, sad, "Arphael, I loved you..."

She reached out and touched him. He shrank away, but her hand grasped him firmly on the shoulder. He screamed, a long lone note of despair and loneliness. A dark wave leaped out of him. The group of Immortals kneeling down shuddered and held each other tightly. They heard the cry of one who touched purity, then had it taken away. They felt what it was like to wander through the millennia, remembering the echo of what that was. They heard the ragged cry of rage, one determined to hold onto what was not his. And they felt a great sense of relief of one who realizes the end has come. They felt their souls assaulted by deep darkness and insanity, desperation and disappointment, and then soothed by waves of warmth and love.

Just briefly, they saw a man with long, wild dark hair who was weeping, being held by a dark haired, dark eyed woman who held him, her dark eyes filled with tears. The vision faded.

And it was done. Rebecca and Darius were holding each other, weeping softly.

The group of family and friends joined them in the embrace.

A stone celtic knott plopped to the ground in their midst.

Constanza said, "It is now Time."


	50. Goodbye, My Children

Two children weeped together softly. Other than that, a grey, still silence dominated the Stonehenge plateau. It was as if the world stood still, holding it's breath, awaiting what happened next.

Finally, Constanza said, in a subdued voice, "It's time. Children..."

"NO!", Amanda exclaimed, shaking off the sickening sensation of the dark force she had just absorbed. She rushed up and stood between Constanza and the twins, her dark eyes wide with despair. "There must be some other way! This can't be how it ends. I haven't had enough time. We haven't..."

Duncan hurried up to her side and stood with her. Their companions approached, too, standing a little off to the side. "Constanza, can't this wait?", Duncan asked, "I demand...I beg of you..."

Constanza looked at this, the first Immortal family of it's sort, and the last to exist, ever. And he felt a stirring, of a sort he didn't remember feeling in all his centuries of waiting, of observing. And he realized something. Though events had to take their course and this was the time they had to take place, they didn't have to take place now. He smiled kindly and stood aside.

Duncan and Amanda turned to the children, Amada's by birth, Duncan's by from the hip adoption. They reached down and pulled the boy and girl to their feet. Amanda smiled wanly and said, stroking a blond lock out of Darius' eyes. He wrapped his strong arms around Amanda, hugging her hard, "Mother, I'm sorry..."

"It's ok, it wasn't you. I know," Amanda said, her eyes closed, holding her son. She felt him holding her back, completely.

"It's NOT OK!", Darius exclaimed, "I should have been strong enough! I should have fought harder. But...I wanted a life..."

Duncan stepped up to Darius, Methos coming behind Duncan, "Darius, I've experienced Dark Quickening myself. I KNOW what it's like. No one is blaming you for what happened."

"It'll be interesting to watch how the Watchers deal with it," Methos mused.

Joe shrugged, and said halfheartedly, "I suspect we've got folks already on it."

"The world will dismiss all that has happened as explainable things, and forget about all that doesn't fit into neat categories, as it always does," Constanza said, "It is the way of mortals, in how they deal with a world that defies catagorization."

"There's always a few who are a bit more open..." Connor MacLeod said, also stepping up. "Duncan...you've been busy..." He chuckled in his raspy voice. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Connor, meet Darius Connor MacLeod, my son," Duncan said, gesturing to an uncertain appearing Darius.

Darius said nervously, "I did just try to kill him, Father."

"No," Connor said, shaking his head, "That was someone else." He shook Darius' hand firmly, smiling kindly, and gave him a wink. He then turned to the brunette girl with the bright blue eyes, who looked peaceful, yet sad. She brightened when Fitz stepped up to her side, and slipped an arm around his waist, kissing him on the cheek.

Connor's eyebrows went up slightly. Duncan pursed his lips slightly, sighed, and said, "Rebecca Anne MacLeod. My daughter."

Connor bowed slightly at the waist and smiled, "Good to meet you, Rebecca. I trust Fitzcairn there has been an adequate guardian?", glancing at Duncan.

"He has, Uncle," Rebecca smiled serenely.

And for the first time in as much time as anyone there could remember, Hugh Fitzcairn, lover of ladies the world over, blushed.

Richie walked up to Darius and gave him a hug, "Welcome back, bro. Missed you."

Family and friends reunited and shared a time together. Laughter and chatter burbled forth from the group. The gathered Immortals around seemed to relax a bit. The waiting was still there, but the tension had eased considerably. This all would end, but this perfect moment could go on just a little longer.

Methos silently extracted himself from the cluster and walked up to Constanza, who stood by himself, looking on.

"Has it always been like this for you, the watching, but never belonging?", he asked. Cassandra came up from behind Methos, and took in Constanza after exchanging glances with Methos.

"I suppose it has," Constanza said, "But up until this point, I have never had occasion to notice. If you don't notice something is missing, is it truly missing?"

Methos looked at Cassandra again, then said, "Well, having lived the life of a loner, I can tell you that one does miss company, no matter your circumstances. You can ignore it, but never forget it."

"What if you never knew it?", Constanza asked?

"Then, you never know what you missed. Perhaps, in some cases, this is not such a bad thing," Methos mused. He then cast his gaze back to the group.

After a time, Constanza said, "It is time."

Rebecca hugged Amanda tightly, tears streaming down her face, and then moved to Duncan, then Joe, then Richie, then Fitz, and finally Methos, who just returned to the group. Darius did the same, with some extra back slapping and fancy hand shaking with Richie, who grinned and gave Darius a shoulder chuck. Rebecca then broke down and wrapped arms tightly around Fitz's neck, her tears moistening his skin. She bestowed upon his lips all the passion at her command in that moment, then stepped back, smiling sadly.

"Much love, lass," Fitz said, his voice choking.

Rebecca smiled, stepped back and took Darius' hand. A glow emanated from them, and shapes flitted among the Immortal throng. They were followed by a Quickening unlike any before, and perhaps one wouldn't be seen like it again, until the last. Immortals were reacquainted with some they thought forever lost, memories long forgotten, and nightmares faded from view. It all was back, it all was present, and it would be carried with them for the rest of their days when they left this place.

And then, it was just a memory. The Quickening vanished from sight.

As had Rebecca and Darius.


	51. Ponderings and Partings

It was late at Joe's. Except for Joe and the group of Immortals at a table in a shadowed section deep in the bar, it was empty. Soft blues guitar played in the background. Most seemed to be lost in thought, no one looking at anyone in particular, gingerly sipping at drinks. Fitz absently puffed on his pipe, while Richie munched on a generous helping of nachos.

Connor MacLeod finally spoke up, directing his penetrating gaze to his younger kinsman. "Duncan, you shared in a unique experience for our kind. You should be grateful, all things considered."

Duncan slowly looked at Connor, "I am grateful. But to have it end like it did, with no way to change it...it doesn't sit well with me, Connor."

Connor smiled kindly and patted Duncan on the shoulder, "I know. Trust me, I know. I could go on some monologue about how we should learn to accept the occasional inevitability in our lives. It's what Ramirez would have done. But I've never been keen on that approach, either. But the alternative is to go mad. It happened. It was meant to happen. And so, it was meant to happen to you. Everything about that experience, and the part you played in it, and everything you gained from it, it was meant for you."

Duncan looked at him skeptically.

"Amanda said she was picked for this because of her resourceful nature, and the resources she had to call on. You are one of them, Duncan. So, pleasure and pain, all earmarked for you," Connor said.

Duncan snorted.

Connor chuckled and took a drink from his glass, "Yeah, destiny can be a bitch." He then stood up and secured the front of his trench coat. Duncan stood up, facing him.

"Cousin, tomorrow is another day, with everything you carry forward. Not a bad deal, really," Connor said. He and Duncan embraced warmly.

"Stay in touch, Connor," Duncan said warmly, his dark eyes a bit misty.

"I will," Connor said with a smile. He shook the hands of the others, thanked Joe for the drink and hospitality, and was out the door, fading into the night.

Richie and Fitz then stood up, too. "I've gotta roll, race coming up," Richie said. "My bike was in the shop, I need to make sure it's ready."

"The world once again is in motion," Fitz exclaimed, "And we must run to keep up." Fitz tried to sound jovial, but a sorrow could be felt. Then, a strange look came over his face, his head cocked, as if listening to something. Richie took on a similar countenance.

They both looked at Amanda and nodded. Amanda appeared to understand.

When the two were gone, Duncan looked at Amanda wonderingly.

Amanda paused, as if listening to an inner voice, "Fitz and Richie were the two Rebecca and Darius loved the most, outside of us. And they gifted them with something special, and a way to continue, to share their lives from this point on. We have a little of it, too, Duncan, but Fitz and Richie received special gifts based on their relationships with them."

Duncan paused, and seemed to feel something. He then smiled warmly. "I understand."

"Well, I don't," Joe said, "What's the deal?"

"I don't understand it, Joe," Amanda said, "But in that final great Quickening, Rebecca and Darius somehow left something of themselves with us...even moreso than what Immortals normally do in a Quickening. They're still with us."

Methos stared at Amanda, "Can you speak to them? Like Rebecca spoke to them?"

Amanda paused, then smiled warmly "I don't know. Maybe one day."

Duncan then stood, "We need to go, Joe. I promised Anne I would let her know how this all turned out."

Joe traded hugs with Duncan and Amanda and said, "Gimme a call, Duncan."

"I will, Joe," Duncan promised, assisting Amanda with her coat. The two of them then left, arm in arm.

Joe looked down at the table, then noticed Methos staring at him, a strange look in his eye.

"What is it, Methos?", Joe asked.

Methos took a long pull from his drink, then paused. He then said in a soft voice, "I was left a gift, too. Maria, Arphael's paramour and my friend, wanted me to understand what had driven Arphael to madness."

"The legend was, he saw the face of God, saw Paradise," Joe said. "And?"

"I think I saw it, too," Methos murmured.

Joe looked at him in astonishment. "Can you tell me what it's like?"

"No," Methos said firmly, with a touch of...fear. He then smiled wanly and said to Joe, "I truly wouldn't know how. Maybe one day..."

Joe opened his mouth, as if to say something, then thought the better of it.

The two of them sat, lost in thought.


	52. I Was A Mother

Duncan and Amanda arrived at the home of Dr Anne Lindsay. It was a nice, modest home that radiated warmth and a subtle artistic aesthetic, as if the designer wanted to make a statement, but not bowl an observer over with it. A well appointed lawn and shrubbery decorated the place.

Anne was waiting for them on the front porch, her daughter sitting with her. Anne smiled at them and hugged them both tightly, gesturing them to have a seat on the steps. Duncan then steeled himself to explain what happened. He and Amanda traded places in the telling, watching Anne's face take on astonishment, sadness and sympathy as she listened.

She looked at them sorrowfully and said, "I'm so sorry. I wish it could have ended differently."

"Yeah," Duncan said horsely, Amanda tearing up.

"You have kids?" Mary spoke up, her brown eyes expectantly.

"I do," Amanda smiled. "I have pictures. Do you want to see them?"

Mary nodded.

Amanda produced the pictures they had taken in Salizbury. While she was showing them, Mary noticed the stone Celtic cross Amanda was wearing around her neck, tied with a silver chain.

"May I see that?" Mary asked. Amanda took it off her neck and handed it to Mary.

"Wow, where did you get this?" Mary asked.

"It was a gift from my children," Amanda said.


	53. Proud Heritage

Scotland, Castle Dunvegan, ancestral home of Clan MacLeod. Two more names were entered into the registry of Clan MacLeod.

Rebecca Anne MacLeod, daughter, and Darius Connor MacLeod, son of Amanda Darieux and Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.


	54. Acknowledgement

This story, up to the point of the group lighting out for the island, was co-written by my friend, Carol Tjelmeland. She deserves equal credit for this story.

It was a pleasure collaborating with you, Carol.


End file.
